SELF-CULTURE. 


AN   ADDRESS  INTRODUCTORY  TO  THE 
FRANKLIN  LECTURES, 


DELIVERED   AT   BOSTON,  SEPTEMBER, 

* 

1838. 


BY  WILLIAM  E.  CHANNING. 
it 


BOSTON: 

BUTTON  AND  WENTWORTH,  PRINTERS  . 
1838. 


*         * 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  Eighteen  Hundred  and  Thirty-Eight, 

BY  DAVID  KIMBALL, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


* 


AT  a  meeting  of  the  Executive  Committee  of  the  "  Franklin  Lectures,"  holden 
November  8th,  1838,  the  following  resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted  : 

Voted,  That  the  thanks  of  this  Committee  be  presented  to  the  Rev.  WILLIAM 
E.  CHANNING,  for  the  interesting  and  valuable  Lecture  delivered  by  him,  intro- 
ductory to  the  Seventh  Course  of  Franklin  Lectures. 

Voted,  That  Dr.  Walter  Channing,  Hon.  Jonathan  Phillips,  and  Enoch  Hobart, 
Esq.,  be  a  Committee  to  communicate  the  foregoing  resolution,  and  request  a  copy 
for  the  press. 

DAVID  KIMBALL,  Secretary. 


To  Dr.  WALTER  CHANNING,  Hon.  JONATHAN  PHILLIPS,  and  ENOCH  HO- 
BART, Esq. 

Gentlemen : 

I  thank  you  for  communicating  to  me  the  vote  of  the  Executive  Committee  of 
the  Franklin  Lectures,  and  1  place  at  your  disposal  the  lecture  which  they  have 
requested  for  publication. 

Very  truly,  your  friend, 

WM.  E.  CHANNING. 


MS69797 


THIS  address  was  intended  to  make  two  lectures;  but  the 
author  was  led  to  abridge  it  and  deliver  it  as  one,  partly  by  the 
apprehension,  that  some  passages  were  too  abstract  for  a  pop- 
ular address,  partly  to  secure  the  advantages  of  presenting  the 
whole  subject  at  once  and  in  close  connection,  and  for  other 
reasons  which  need  not  be  named.  Most  of  the  passages, 
which  were  omitted,  are  now  published.  The  author  respect- 
fully submits  the  discourse  to  those,  for  whom  it  was  partic- 
ularly intended,  and  to  the  public,  in  the  hope,  that  it  will  at 
least  bring  a  great  subject  before  the  minds  of  some,  who  may 
not  as  yet  have  given  to  it  the  attention  it  deserves. 


ADDRESS. 


MY    RESPECTED    FRIENDS  I 

By  the  invitation  of  the  committee  of  arrange- 
ments for  the  Franklin  lectures,  I  now  appear  be- 
fore you  to  offer  some  remarks  introductory  to  this 
course.  My  principal  inducement  for  so  doing  is 
my  deep  interest  in  those  of  my  fellow  citizens, 
for  whom  these  lectures  are  principally  designed. 
I  understood  that  they  were  to  be  attended  chiefly 
by  those,  who  are  occupied  by  manual  labor  ; 
and,  hearing  this,  I  did  not  feel  myself  at  liberty 
to  decline  the  service,  to  which  I  had  been  in- 
vited. I  wished  by  compliance  to  express  my 
sympathy  with  this  large  portion  of  my  race.  I 
wished  to  express  iny  sense  of  obligation  to  those, 
from  whose  industry  and  skill  I  derive  almost  all  the 


6 

comforts  of  life.  I  wished  still  more  to  express 
my  joy  in  the  efforts  they  are  making  for  their  own 
improvement,  and  my  firm  faith  in  their  success. 
These  motives  will  give  a  particular  character  and 
bearing  to  some  of  my  remarks.  I  shall  speak 
occasionally  as  among  those  who  live  by  the  labor 
of  their  hands.  But  I  shall  not  speak  as  one  sep- 
arated from  them.  I  belong  rightfully  to  the  great 
fraternity  of  working  men.  Happily  in  this  com- 
munity we  all  are  bred  and  born  to  work  ;  and 
this  honorable  mark,  set  on  us  all,  should  bind 
together  the  various  portions  of  the  community. 

I  have  expressed  my  strong  interest  in  the  mass 
of  the  people  ;  and  this  is  founded  not  on  their 
usefulness  to  the  community  so  much  as  on  what 
they  are  in  themselves.  Their  condition  is  indeed 
obscure  ;  but  their  importance  is  not  on  this  ac- 
count, a  whit  the  less.  The  multitude  of  men 
cannot  from  the  nature  of  the  case  be  distin- 
guished ;  for  the  very  idea  of  distinction  is,  that  a 
man  stands  out  from  the  multitude.  They  make 
little  noise  and  draw  little  notice  in  their  narrow 
spheres  of  action  ;  but  still  they  have  their  full 
proportion  of  personal  worth  and  even  of  great- 
ness. Indeed  every  man,  in  every  condition,  is 
great.  It  is  only  our  own  diseased  sight  which 
makes  him  little.  A  man  is  great  as  a  man,  be  he 
where  or  what  he  may.  The  grandeur  of  his  na- 
ture turns  to  insignificance  all  outward  distinctions. 
His  powers  of  intellect,  of  conscience,  of  love,  of 


•7 

knowing  God,  of  perceiving  the  beautiful,  of  act- 
ing on  his  own  mind,  on  outward  nature,  and  on 
his  fellow  creatures,  these  are  glorious  preroga- 
tives. Through  the  vulgar  error  of  undervaluing 
what  is  common,  we  are  apt  indeed  to  pass  these 
by  as  of  little  worth.  But  as  in  the  outward  cre- 
ation, so  in  the  soul,  the  common  is  the  most  pre- 
cious. Science  and  art  may  invent  splendid  modes 
of  illuminating  the  apartments  of  the  opulent ;  but 
these  are  all  poor  and  worthless,  compared  with  the 
common  light  which  the  sun  sends  into  all  our 
windows,  which  he  pours  freely,  impartially  over 
hill  and  valley,  which  kindles  daily  the  eastern 
and  western  sky  ;  and  so  the  common  lights  of 
reason,  and  conscience,  and  love  are  of  more  worth 
and  dignity  than  the  rare  endowments  which  give 
celebrity  to  a  few.  Let  us  not  disparage  that  na- 
ture which  is  common  to  all  men  ;  for  no  thought 
can  measure  its  grandeur.  It  is  the  image  of 
God,  the  image  even  of  his  infinity,  for  no  lim- 
its can  be  set  to  its  unfolding.  He  who  pos- 
sesses the  divine  powers  of  the  soul  is  a  great 
being,  be  his  place  what  it  may.  You  may  clothe 
him  with  rags,  may  immerse  him  in  a  dungeon, 
may  chain  him  to  slavish  tasks.  But  he  is  still 
great.  You  may  shut  him  out  of  your  houses ;  but 
God  opens  to  him  heavenly  mansions.  He  makes 
no  show  indeed  in  the  streets  of  a  splendid  city  ; 
but  a  clear  thought,  a  pure  affection,  a  resolute 
act  of  a  virtuous  will  have  a  dignity  of  quite 


8 

another  kind  and  far  higher  than  accumulations  of 
brick  and  granite  and  plaster  and  stucco,  however 
cunningly  put  together,  or  though  stretching  far 
beyond  our  sight.  Nor  is  this  all.  If  we  pass 
over  this  grandeur  of  our  common  nature,  and  turn 
our  thoughts  to  that  comparative  greatness,  which 
draws  chief  attention,  and  which  consists  in  the 
decided  superiority  of  the  individual  to  the  gene- 
ral standard  of  power  and  character,  we  shall  find 
this  as  free  and  frequent  a  growth  among  the  ob- 
scure and  unnoticed  as  in  more  conspicuous  walks 
of  life.  The  truly  great  are  to  be  found  every 
where,  nor  is  it  easy  to  say,  in  what  condition  they 
spring  up  most  plentifully.  Real  greatness  has 
nothing  to  do  with  a  man's  sphere.  It  does  not 
lie  in  the  magnitude  of  his  outward  agency,  in  the 
extent  of  the  effects  which  he  produces.  The 
greatest  men  may  do  comparatively  little  abroad. 
Perhaps  the  greatest  in  our  city  at  this  moment 
are  buried  in  obscurity.  Grandeur  of  character 
lies  wholly  in  force  of  soul,  that  is,  in  the  force  of 
thought,  moral  principle  and  love,  and  this  may 
be  found  in  the  humblest  condition  of  life.  A  man 
brought  up  to  an  obscure  trade,  and  hemmed  in 
by  the  wants  of  a  growing  family,  may,  in  his  nar- 
row sphere,  perceive  more  clearly,  discriminate 
more  keenly,  weigh  evidence  more  wisely,  seize 
on  the  right  means  more  decisively,  and  have 
more  presence  of  mind  in  difficulty,  than  another 
who  has  accumulated  vast  stores  of  knowledge  by 


laborious  study ;  and  he  has  more  of  intellectual 
greatness.  Many  a  man,  who  has  gone  but  a  few 
miles  from  home,  understands  human  nature  bet- 
ter, detects  motives  and  weighs  character  more 
sagaciously,  than  another,  who  has  travelled  over 
the  known  world,  and  made  a  name  by  his  reports 
of  different  countries.  It  is  force  of  thought 
which  measures  intellectual,  and  so  it  is  force  of 
principle  which  measures  moral  greatness,  that 
highest  of  human  endowments,  that  brightest  man- 
ifestation of  the  Divinity.  The  greatest  man  is  he 
who  chooses  the  Right  with  invincible  resolution, 
who  resists  the  sorest  temptations  from  within  and 
without,  who  bears  the  heaviest  burdens  cheer- 
fully, who  is  calmest  in  storms  and  most  fearless 
under  menace  and  frowns,  whose  reliance  on 
truth,  on  virtue,  on  God  is  most  unfaltering  ;  and 
is  this  a  greatness,  which  is  apt  to  make  a  show, 
or  which  is  most  likely  to  abound  in  conspicuous 
station  ?  The  solemn  conflicts  of  reason  with 
passion  ;  the  victories  of  moral  and  religious  prin- 
ciple over  urgent  and  almost  irresistible  solicita- 
tions to  self-indulgence  ;  the  hardest  sacrifices  of 
duty,  those  of  deep-seated  affection  and  of  the 
heart's  fondest  hopes  ;  the  consolations,  hopes, 
joys,  and  peace  of  disappointed,  persecuted, 
scorned,  deserted  virtue  ;  these  are  of  course  un- 
seen ;  so  that  the  true  greatness  of  human  life  is 
almost  wholly  out  of  sight.  Perhaps  in  our  pres- 
ence, the  most  heroic  deed  on  earth  is  done  in 
2 


10 

some  silent  spirit,  the  loftiest  -  purpose  cherished, 
the  most  generous  sacrifice  made,  and  we  do  not 
suspect  it.  I  believe  this  greatness  to  be  most 
common  among  the  multitude,  whose  names  are 
never  heard.  Among  common  people  will  be 
found  more  of  hardship  borne  manfully,  more  of 
unvarnished  truth,  more  of  religious  trust,  more 
of  that  generosity  which  gives  what  the  giver 
needs  himself,  and  more  of  a  wise  estimate  of  life 
and  death,  than  among  the  more  prosperous. — And 
even  in  regard  to  influence  over  other  beings, 
which  is  thought  the  peculiar  prerogative  of  dis- 
tinguished station,  I  believe,  that  the  difference 
between  the  conspicuous  and  the  obscure  does  not 
amount  to  much.  Influence  is  to  be  measured,  not 
by  the  extent  of  fHtppojc  it  covers,  but  by  its  kind. 
A  man  may  spread  his  mind,  his  feelings  and 
opinions  through  a  great  extent ;  but  if  his  mind 
be  a  low  one,  he  manifests  no  greatness.  A 
wretched  artist  may  fill  a  city  with  daubs,  and 
by  a  false  showy  style  achieve  a  reputation  ;  but 
the  man  of  genius,  who  leaves  behind  him  one 
grand  picture,  in  which  immortal  beauty  is  em- 
bodied, and  which  is  silently  to  spread  a  true 
taste  in  his  art,  exerts  an  incomparably  higher  in- 
fluence. Now  the  noblest  influence  on  earth  is 
that  exerted  on  character;  and  he,  who  puts  forth 
this,  does  a  great  work,  no  matter  how  narrow  or 
obscure  his  sphere.  The  father  and  mother  of  an 
unnoticed  family  who,  in  their  seclusion,  awaken 


11 

the  mind  of  one  child  to  the  idea  and  love  of  per- 
fect goodness,  who  awaken  in  him  a  strength  of 
will  to  repel  all  temptation,  and  who  send  him  out 
prepared  to  profit  by  the  conflicts  of  life,  surpass 
in  influence  a  Napoleon  breaking  the  world  to  his 
sway.  And  not  only  is  their  work  higher  in  kind ; 
who  knows,  but  that  they  are  doing  a  greater 
work  even  as  to  extent  or  surface  than  the  con- 
queror ?  Who  knows,  but  that  the  being,  whom 
they  inspire  with  holy  and  disinterested  princi- 
ples, may  communicate  himself  to  others  ;  and 
that  by  a  spreading  agency,  of  which  they  were 
the  silent  origin,  improvements  may  spread  through 
a  nation,  through  the  world  ?  In  these  remarks 
you  will  see  why  I  feel  and  express  a  deep  inter- 
est in  the  obscure,  in  the  mass  of  men.  The  dis- 
tinctions of  society  vanish  before  the  light  of 
these  truths.  I  attach  myself  to  the  multitude, 
not  because  they  are  voters  and  have  political 
power ;  but  because  they  are  men,  and  have  within 
their  reach  the  most  glorious  prizes  of  humanity. 
In  this  country  the  mass  of  the  people  are  dis- 
tinguished by  possessing  means  of  improvement,  of 
self-culture,  possessed  no  where  else.  To  incite 
them  to  the  use  of  these,  is  to  render  them  the 
best  service  they  can  receive.  Accordingly  I  have 
chosen  for  the  subject  of  this  lecture,  Self-culture, 
or  the  care  which  every  man  owes  to  himself,  to  the 
unfolding  and  perfecting  of  his  nature.  I  consider 
this  topic  as  particularly  appropriate  to  the  intro- 


12 


duct  ion  of  a  course  of  lectures,  in  consequence  of  a 
common  disposition  to  regard  these  and  other  like 
means  of  instruction,  as  able  of  themselves  to  carry 
forward  the  hearer.  Lectures  have  their  use. 
They  stir  up  many,  who,  but  for  such  outward  ap- 
peals, might  have  slumbered  to  the  end  of  life. 
But  let  it  be  remembered,  that  little  is  to  be  gain- 
ed simply  by  coming  to  this  place  once  a  week, 
and  giving  up  the  mind  for  an  hour  to  be  wrought 
upon  by  a  teacher.  Unless  we  are  roused  to  act 
upon  ourselves,  unless  we  engage  in  the  work  of 
self-improvement,  unless  we  purpose  strenuously 
to  form  and  elevate  our  own  minds,  unless  what 
we  hear  is  made  a  part  of  ourselves  by  conscien- 
tious reflection,  very  little  permanent  good  is  re- 
ceived. 

Self-culture,  I  am  aware,  is  a  topic  too  exten- 
sive for  a  single  discourse,  and  I  shall  be  able  to 
present  but  a  few  views  which  seem  to  me  most 
important.  My  aim  will  be,  to  give  first  the  Idea 
of  self-culture,  next  its  Means,  and  then  to  con- 
sider some  objections  to  the  leading  views  which  I 
am  now  to  lay  before  you. 

Before  entering  on  the  discussion,  let  me  offer 
one  remark.  Self-culture  is  something  possible. 
It  is  not  a  dream.  It  has  foundations  in  our  nature. 
Without  this  conviction,  the  speaker  will  but 
declaim,  and  the  hearer  listen  without  profit. 
There  are  two  powers  of  the  human  soul  which 
make  self-culture  possible,  the  self-searching  and 


13 

the  self-forming  power.     We  have  first  the  faculty 
of  turning  the  mind  on  itself;  of  recalling  its  past, 
and  watching  its  present  operations  ;  of  learning  its 
various  capacities  and  susceptibilities,  what  it  can  do 
and  bear,  what  it  can  enjoy  and  suffer  ;   and  of  thus 
learning  in  general  what  our  nature  is,  and  what  it 
was  made  for.     It  is  worthy  of  observation,  that 
we  are  able  to  discern  not  only  what  we  already 
are,  but  what  we  may  become,  to  see  in  ourselves 
germs  and  promises  of  a  growth  to  which  no  bounds 
can  be  set,  to  dart  beyond  what  we  have  actually 
gained  to  the  idea  of  Perfection  as  the  end  of  our 
being.     It    is  by  this   self-comprehending  power 
that  we  are  distinguished  from  the  brutes,  which 
give  no  signs  of  looking  into  themselves.    Without 
this  there  would  be  no  self-culture,  for  we  should 
not  know  the  work  to  be  done;   and  one  reason 
why  self-culture  is  so  little  proposed  is,  that  so  few 
penetrate  into  their  own  nature.     To  most  men, 
their  own  spirits  are  shadowy,  unreal,  compared 
with  what  is  outward.     When  they  happen  to  cast 
a  glance  inward,  they  see  there  only  a  dark,  vague 
chaos.      They   distinguish   perhaps    some    violent 
passion,  which  has  driven   them  to  injurious  ex- 
cess ;    but  their  highest  powers  hardly  attract  a 
thought ;  and  thus  multitudes  live  and  die  as  truly 
strangers  to  themselves,  as  to  countries,  of  which 
they  have  heard  the  name,  but  which  human  foot 
has  never  trodden. 

But  self-culture  is  possible,  not  only  because  we 


14 


can  enter  into  and  search  ourselves.  We  have  a 
still  nobler  power,  that  of  acting  on,  determining 
and  forming  ourselves.  This  is  a  fearful  as  well 
as  glorious  endowment,  for  it  is  the  ground  of  hu- 
man responsibility.  We  have  the  power  not  only  of 
tracing  our  powers,  but  of  guiding  and  impelling 
them,  not  only  of  watching  our  passions,  but  of  con- 
trolling them,  not  only  of  seeing  our  faculties  grow, 
but  of  applying  to  them  means  and  influences  to  aid 
their  growth.  We  can  stay  or  change  the  current 
of  thought.  We  can  concentrate  the  intellect  on 
objects  which  we  wish  to  comprehend.  We  can 
fix  our  eyes  on  perfection  and  make  almost  every 
thing  speed  us  towards  it.  This  is  indeed  a  noble 
prerogative  of  our  nature.  Possessing  this,  it  mat- 
ters little  what  or  where  we  are  now,  for  we  can 
conquer  a  better  lot,  and  even  be  happier  for  start- 
ing from  the  lowest  point.  Of  all  the  discoveries 
which  men  need  to  make,  the  most  important  at 
the  present  moment,  is  that  of  the  self- forming 
power  treasured  up  in  themselves.  They  little 
suspect  its  extent,  as  little  as  the  savage  appre- 
hends the  energy  which  the  mind  is  created  to  ex- 
ert on  the  material  world.  It  transcends  in  im- 
portance all  our  power  over  outward  nature. 
There  is  more  of  divinity  in  it,  than  in  the  force 
which  impels  the  outward  universe  ;  and  yet  how 
little  we  comprehend  it !  How  it  slumbers  in  most 
men  unsuspected,  unused !  This  makes  self-cul- 
ture possible,  and  binds  it  on  us  as  a  solemn  duty. 


15 

I.  I  am  first  to  unfold  the  idea  of  self-culture ;  and 
this,  in  its  most  general  form,  may  easily  be  seized. 
To  cultivate  any  thing,  be  it  a  plant,  an  animal,  a 
mind,  is  to  make  grow.  Growth,  expansion  is 
the  end.  Nothing  admits  culture,  but  that  which 
has  a  principle  of  life,  capable  of  being  expanded. 
He,  therefore,  who  does  what  he  can  to  unfold  all 
his  powers  and  capacities,  especially  his  nobler 
ones,  so  as  to  become  a  well  proportioned,  vigor- 
ous, excellent,  happy  being,  practises  self-culture. 

This  culture  of  course  has  various  branches  cor- 
responding to  the  different  capacities  of  human 
nature ;  but  though  various,  they  are  intimately 
united  and  make  progress  together.  The  soul 
which  our  philosophy  divides  into  various  capaci- 
ties, is  still  one  essence,  one  life  ;  and  it  exerts  at 
the  same  moment,  and  blends  in  the  same  act  its 
various  energies  of  thought,  feeling  and  volition. 
Accordingly  in  a  wise  self-culture  all  the  princi- 
ples of  our  nature  grow  at  once  by  joint  harmo- 
nious action,  just  as  all  parts  of  the  plant  are 
unfolded  together.  When  therefore  you  hear  of 
different  branches  of  self-improvement,  you  will 
not  think  of  them  as  distinct  processes  going  on 
independently  on  each  other,  and  requiring  each 
its  own  separate  means.  Still  a  distinct  consider- 
ation of  these  is  needed  to  a  full  comprehension 
of  the  subject,  and  these  I  shall  proceed  to  unfold. 

First,  self-culture  is  Moral,  a  branch  of  singular 
importance.  When  a  man  looks  into  himself  he 


16 

discovers  two  distant  orders  or  kinds  of  principles, 
which  it  behoves  him  especially  to  comprehend. 
He  discovers  desires,  appetites,  passions  which 
terminate  in  himself,  which  crave  and  seek  his  own 
interest,  gratification,  distinction ;  and  he  discovers 
another  principle,  an  antagonist  to  these,  which  is 
Impartial,  Disinterested,  Universal,  enjoining  on 
him  a  regard  to  the  rights  and  happiness  of  other 
beings,  and  laying  on  him  obligations  which  must 
be  discharged,  cost  what  they  may,  or  however 
they  may  clash  with  his  particular  pleasure  or  gain. 
No  man,  however  narrowed  to  his  own  interest, 
however  hardened  by  selfishness,  can  deny,  that 
there  springs  up  within  him  a  great  idea  in  oppo- 
sition to  interest,  the  idea  of  Duty,  that  an  inward 
voice  calls  him  more  or  less  distinctly  to  revere 
and  exercise  Impartial  Justice,  and  Universal 
Good-will.  This  disinterested  principle  in  hu- 
man nature  we  call  sometimes  reason,  sometimes 
conscience,  sometimes  the  moral  sense  or  faculty. 
But,  be  its  name  what  it  may,  it  is  a  real  principle 
in  each  of  us,  and  it  is  the  supreme  power  within 
us,  to  be  cultivated  above  all  others,  for  on  its  cul- 
ture the  right  development  of  all  others  depends. 
The  passions  indeed  may  be  stronger  than  the 
conscience,  may  lift  up  a  louder  voice ;  but  their 
clamour  differs  wholly  from  the  tone  of  command 
in  which  the  conscience  speaks.  They  are  not 
clothed  with  its  authority,  its  binding  power.  In 
their  very  triumphs  they  are  rebuked  by  the  moral 


17 

principle,  and  often  cower  before  its  still  deep 
menacing  voice.  No  part  of  self-knowledge  is 
more  important  than  to  discern  clearly  these  two 
great  principles,  the  self-seeking  and  the  disinter- 
ested ;  and  the  most  important  part  of  self-culture 
is  to  depress  the  former,  and  to  exalt  the  latter,  or 
to  enthrone  the  sense  of  duty  within  us.  There  are 
no  limits  to  the  growth  of  this  moral  force  in  man, 
if  he  will  cherish  it  faithfully.  There  have  been 
men,  whom  no  power  in  the  universe  could  turn 
from  the  Right,  to  whom  death  in  its  most  dread- 
ful forms  has  been  less  dreaded,  than  transgres- 
sion of  the  inward  law  of  universal  justice  and  love. 

In  the  next  place,  self-culture  is  Religious. 
When  we  look  into  ourselves  we  discover  powers, 
which  link  us  with  this  outward,  visible,  finite, 
ever  changing  world.  We  have  sight  and  other 
senses  to  discern,  and  limbs  and  various  faculties 
to  secure  and  appropriate  the  material  creation. 
And  we  have  too  a  power,  which  cannot  stop  at 
what  we  see  and  handle,  at  what  exists  within  the 
bounds  of  space  and  time,  which  seeks  for  the 
Infinite,  Uncreated  cause,  which  cannot  rest  till  it 
ascend  to  the  Eternal,  All-comprehending  Mind. 
This  we  call  the  religious  principle,  and  its  gran- 
deur cannot  be  exaggerated  by  human  language  ; 
for  it  marks  out  a  being  destined  for  higher  com- 
munion than  with  the  visible  universe.  To  devel- 
ope  this,  is  eminently  to  educate  ourselves.  The 
3 


18 

true  idea  of  God,  unfolded  clearly  and  livingly 
within  us,  and  moving  us  to  adore  and  obey  him, 
and  to  aspire  after  likeness  to  him,  is  the  noblest 
growth  in  human,  and  I  may  add,  in  celestial  na- 
tures. The  religious  principle,  and  the  moral,  are 
intimately  connected,  and  grow  together.  The 
former  is  indeed  the  perfection  and  highest  mani- 
festation of  the  latter.  They  are  both  disinterest- 
ed. It  is  the  essence  of  true  religion  to  recognize 
and  adore  in  God  the  attributes  of  Impartial  Justice 
and  Universal  Love,  and  to  hear  him  commanding 
us  in  the  conscience  to  become  what  we  adore. 

Again.  Self-culture  is  Intellectual.  We  cannot 
look  into  ourselves  without  discovering  the  intel- 
lectual principle,  the  power  which  thinks,  reasons, 
and  judges,  the  power  of  seeking  and  acquiring 
truth.  This  indeed  we  are  in  no  danger  of  over- 
looking. The  intellect  being  the  great  instrument 
by  which  men  compass  their  wishes,  it  draws  more 
attention  than  any  of  our  other  powers.  When  we 
speak  to  men  of  improving  themselves,  the  first 
thought  which  occurs  to  them  is,  that  they  must  cul- 
tivate their  understanding,  and  get  knowledge  and 
skill.  By  education,  men  mean  almost  exclusively 
intellectual  training.  For  this,  schools  and  colleges 
are  instituted,  and  to  this  the  moral  and  religious 
discipline  of  the  young  is  sacrificed.  Now  I 
reverence,  as  much  as  any  man,  the  intellect ; 
but  let  us  never  exalt  it  above  the  moral  prin- 


19 

ciple.  With  this  it  is  most  intimately  connect- 
ed. In  this  its  culture  is  founded,  and  to  ex- 
alt this  is  its  highest  aim.  Whoever  desires  that 
his  intellect  may  grow  up  to  soundness,  to  healthy 
vigour,  must  begin  with  moral  discipline.  Reading 
and  study  are  not  enough  to  perfect  the  power  of 
thought.  One  thing  above  all  is  needful,  and  that 
is,  the  Disinterestedness  which  is  the  very  soul  of 
virtue.  To  gain  truth,  which  is  the  great  object 
of  the  understanding,  I  must  seek  it  disinterest- 
edly. Here  is  the  first  and  grand  condition  of 
intellectual  progress.  I  must  choose  to  receive 
the  truth,  no  matter  how  it  bears  on  myself.  I 
must  follow  it,  no  matter  where  it  leads,  what  in- 
terests it  opposes,  to  what  persecution  or  loss  it 
lays  me  open,  from  what  party  it  severs  me,  or  to 
what  party  it  allies.  Without  this  fairness  of  mind, 
which  is  only  another  phrase  for  disinterested  love 
of  truth,  great  native  powers  of  understanding  are 
perverted  and  lead  astray ;  genius  runs  wild ; 
"the  light  within  us  becomes  darkness/'  The 
subtlest  reasoners,  for  want  of  this,  cheat  them- 
selves as  well  as  others,  and  become  entangled  in 
the  web  of  their  own  sophistry.  It  is  a  fact  well 
known  in  the  history  of  science  and  philosophy, 
that  men,  gifted  by  nature  with  singular  intelli- 
gence, have  broached  the  grossest  errors,  and  even 
sought  to  undermine  the  grand  primitive  truths  on 
which  human  virtue,  dignity  and  hope  depend. 
And  on  the  other  hand,  I  have  known  instances  of 


20 

men  of  naturally  moderate  powers  of  mind,  who 
by  a  disinterested  love  of  truth  and  their  fellow 
creatures,  have  gradually  risen  to  no  small  force 
and  enlargement  of  thought.  Some  of  the  most 
useful  teachers  in  the  pulpit  and  in  schools,  have 
owed  their  power  of  enlightening  others,  not  so 
much  to  any  natural  superiority,  as  to  the  sim- 
plicity, impartiality  and  disinterestedness  of  their 
minds,  to  their  readiness  to  live  and  die  for  the 
truth.  A  man,  who  rises  above  himself,  looks 
from  an  eminence  on  nature  and  providence,  on 
society  and  life.  Thought  expands  as  by  a  natural 
elasticity,  when  the  pressure  of  selfishness  is 
removed.  The  moral  and  religious  principles  of 
the  soul,  generously  cultivated,  fertilize  the  intel- 
lect. Duty,  faithfully  performed,  opens  the  mind 
to  Truth,  both  being  of  one  family,  alike  immuta- 
ble, universal  and  everlasting. 

I  have  enlarged  on  this  subject,  because  the 
connexion  between  moral  and  intellectual  culture 
is  often  overlooked,  and  because  the  former  is  often 
sacrificed  to  the  latter.  The  exaltation  of  talent, 
as  it  is  called,  above  virtue  and  religion,  is  the 
curse  of  the  age.  Education  is  now  chiefly  a 
stimulus  to  learning,  and  thus  men  acquire  power 
without  the  principles  which  alone  make  it  a  good. 
Talent  is  worshipped ;  but,  if  divorced  from  rec- 
titude, it  will  prove  more  of  a  demon  than  a  God. 

Intellectual  culture  consists,  not  chiefly,  as  many 
are  apt  to  think,  in  accumulating  information, 


21 

though  this  is  important,  but  in  building  up  a  force 
of  thought  which  may  be  turned  at  will  on  any 
subjects,  on  which  we  are  called  to  pass  judgment. 
This  force  is  manifested  in  the  concentration  of  the 
attention,  in  accurate  penetrating  observation,  in  re- 
ducing complex  subjects  to  their  elements,  in  diving 
beneath  the  effect  to  the  cause,  in  detecting  the  more 
subtle  differences  and  resemblances  of  things,  in 
reading  the  future  in  the  present,  and  especially  in 
rising  from  particular  facts  to  general  laws  or  uni- 
versal truths.  This  last  exertion  of  the  intellect,  its 
rising  to  broad  views  and  great  principles,  con- 
stitutes what  is  called  the  philosophical  mind,  and 
is  especially  worthy  of  culture.  What  it  means 
your  own  observation  must  have  taught  you.  You 
must  have  taken  note  of  two  classes  of  men,  the 
one  always  employed  on  details,  on  particular 
facts,  and  the  other  using  these  facts  as  foundations 
of  higher,  wider  truths.  The  latter  are  philoso- 
phers. For  example,  men  had  for  ages  seen  pieces 
of  wood,  stones,  metals  falling  to  the  ground. 
Newton  seized  on  these  particular  facts,  and  rose 
to  the  idea,  that  all  matter  tends,  or  is  attracted, 
towards  all  matter,  and  then  defined  the  law  ac- 
cording to  which  this  attraction  or  force  acts  at  dif- 
ferent distances,  thus  giving  us  a  grand  princi- 
ple, which,  we  have  reason  to  think,  extends  to  and 
controls  the  whole  outward  creation.  One  man 
reads  a  history,  and  can  tell  you  all  its  events, 
and  there  stops.  Another  combines  these  events, 


22 

brings  them  under  one  view  and  learns  the  great 
causes  which  are  at  work  on  this  or  another  nation, 
and  what  are  its  great  tendencies,  whether  to  free- 
dom or  despotism,  to  one  or  another  form  of  civil- 
ization. So  one  man  talks  continually  about  the 
particular  actions  of  this  or  another  neighbour  ; 
whilst  another  looks  beyond  the  acts  to  the  inward 
principle  from  which  they  spring,  and  gathers  from 
them  larger  views  of  human  nature.  In  a  word, 
one  man  sees  all  things  apart  and  in  fragments, 
whilst  another  strives  to  discover  the  harmony, 
connection,  unity  of  all.  One  of  the  great  evils 
of  society  is,  that  men,  occupied  perpetually  with 
petty  details,  want  general  truths,  want  broad  and 
fixed  principles.  Hence  many,  not  wicked,  are 
unstable,  habitually  inconsistent,  as  if  they  were 
overgrown  children  rather  than  men.  To  build 
up  that  strength  of  mind,  which  apprehends 
and  cleaves  to  great  universal  truths,  is  the 
highest  intellectual  self-culture  ;  and  here  I  wish 
you  to  observe  how  entirely  this  culture  agrees 
with  that  of  the  moral  and  the  religious  principles 
of  our  nature,  of  which  I  have  previously  spoken. 
In  each  of  these,  the  improvement  of  the  soul  con- 
sists in  raising  it  above  what  is  narrow,  particular, 
individual,  selfish,  to  the  universal  and  unconfined. 
To  improve  a  man,  is  to  liberalize,  enlarge  him  in 
thought,  feeling  and  purpose.  Narrowness  of  in- 
tellect and  heart,  this  is  the  degradation  from 
which  all  culture  aims  to  rescue  the  human  being. 


23 

Again.  Self-culture  is  Social,  or  one  of  its 
great  offices  is  to  unfold  and  purify  the  affections, 
which  spring  up  instinctively  in  the  human  breast, 
which  bind  together  husband  and  wife,  parent  and 
child,  brother  and  sister  ;  which  bind  a  man  to 
friends  and  neighbors,  to  his  country,  and  to  the 
suffering  who  fall  under  his  eye,  wherever  they  be- 
long. The  culture  of  these  is  an  important  part 
of  our  work,  and  it  consists  in  converting  them 
from  instincts  into  principles,  from  natural  into 
spiritual  attachments,  in  giving  them  a  rational, 
moral,  and  holy  character.  For  example,  our 
affection  for  our  children  is  at  first  instinctive  ; 
and  if  it  continue  such,  it  rises  little  above  the 
brute's  attachment  to  its  young.  But  when  a  pa- 
rent infuses  into  his  natural  love  for  his  offspring 
moral  and  religious  principle,  when  he  comes  to 
regard  his  child  as  an  intelligent,  spiritual,  im- 
mortal being,  and  honors  him  as  such,  and  desires 
first  of  all  to  make  him  disinterested,  noble,  a 
worthy  child  of  God  and  the  friend  of  his  race, 
then  the  instinct  rises  into  a  generous  and  holy 
sentiment.  It  resembles  God's  paternal  love  for 
his  spiritual  family.  A  like  purity  and  dignity  we 
must  aim  to  give  to  all  our  affections. 

Again.  Self-culture  is  Practical,  or  it  proposes 
as  one  of  its  chief  ends  to  fit  us  for  action,  to 
make  us  efficient  in  whatever  we  undertake,  to 
train  us  to  firmness  of  purpose  and  to  fruitfulness 


24 

of  resource  in  common  life,  and  especially  in 
emergencies,  in  times  of  difficulty,  danger  and 
trial.  But  passing  over  this  and  other  topics  for 
which  I  have  no  time,  I  shall  confine  myself  to 
two  branches  of  self-culture  which  have  been 
almost  wholly  overlooked  in  the  education  of  the 
people,  and  which  ought  not  to  be  so  slighted. 

In  looking  at  our  nature,  we  discover,  among 
its  admirable  endowments,  the  sense  or  percep- 
tion of  Beauty.  We  see  the  germ  of  this  in 
every  human  being,  and  there  is  no  power 
which  admits  greater  cultivation  ;  and  why  should 
it  not  be  cherished  in  all  ?  It  deserves  remark, 
that  the  provision  for  this  principle  is  infinite  in 
the  universe.  There  is  but  a  very  minute  por- 
tion of  the  creation  which  we  can  turn  into  food 
and  clothes,  or  gratification  for  the  body  ;  but  the 
whole  creation  may  be  used  to  minister  to  the 
sense  of  beauty.  Beauty  is  an  all-pervading  pres- 
ence. It  unfolds  in  the  numberless  flowers  of  the 
spring.  It  waves  in  the  branches  of  the  trees  and 
the  green  blades  of  grass.  It  haunts  the  depths 
of  the  earth  and  sea,  and  gleams  out  in  the  hues 
of  the  shell  and  the  precious  stone.  And  not 
only  these  minute  objects,  but  the  ocean,  the 
mountains,  the  clouds,  the  heavens,  the  stars,  the 
rising  and  setting  sun,  all  overflow  with  beauty. 
The  universe  is  its  temple  ;  and  those  men  who 
are  alive  to  it  cannot  lift  their  eyes  without  feeling 
themselves  encompassed  with  it  on  every  side. 


25 

Now  this  beauty  is  so  precious,  the  enjoyments  it 
gives  are  so  refined  and  pure,  so  congenial  with 
our  tenderest  and  noble  feelings,  and  so  akin  to 
worship,  that  it  is  painful  to  think  of  the  multi- 
tude of  men  as  living  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  living 
almost  as  blind  to  it,  as  if,  instead  of  this  fair 
earth  and  glorious  sky,  they  were  tenants  of  a 
dungeon.  An  infinite  joy  is  lost  to  the  world  by 
the  want  of  culture  of  this  spiritual  endowment. 
Suppose  that  I  were  to  visit  a  cottage,  and  to 
see  its  walls  lined  with  the  choicest  pictures 
of  Raphael,  and  every  spare  nook  filled  with 
statues  of  the  most  exquisite  workmanship,  and 
that  I  were  to  learn,  that  neither  man,  woman 
nor  child  ever  cast  an  eye  at  these  miracles  of  art, 
how  should  I  feel  their  privation  ;  how  should  I 
want  to  open  their  eyes,  and  to  help  them  to  com- 
prehend and  feel  the  loveliness  and  grandeur 
which  in  vain  courted  their  notice.  But  every 
husbandman  is  living  in  sight  of  the  works  of  a 
diviner  artist ;  and  how  much  would  his  existence 
be  elevated,  could  he  see  the  glory  which  shines 
forth  in  their  forms,  hues,  proportions  and  moral 
expression  !  I  have  spoken  only  of  the  beauty  of 
nature,  but  how  much  of  this  mysterious  charm  is 
found  in  the  elegant  arts,  and  especially  in  litera- 
ture ?  The  best  books  have  most  beauty.  The 
greatest  truths  are  wronged  if  not  linked  with 
beauty,  and  they  win  their  way  most  surely  and 
deeply  into  the  soul  when  arrayed  in  this  their 
4 


26 

natural  and  fit  attire.  Now  no  man  receives  the 
true  culture  of  a  man,  in  whom  the  sensibility  to 
the  beautiful  is  not  cherished  ;  and  I  know  of  no 
condition  in  life  from  which  it  should  be  excluded. 
Of  all  luxuries  this  is  the  cheapest  and  most  at 
hand ;  and  it  seems  to  me  to  be  most  important  to 
those  conditions,  where  coarse  labor  tends  to  °:ive 
a  grossness  to  the  mind.  From  the  diffusion  of 
the  sense  of  beauty  in  ancient  Greece,  and  of  the 
taste  for  music  in  modern  Germany,  we  learn  that 
the  people  at  large,  may  partake  of  refined  grat- 
ifications which  have  hitherto  been  thought  to  be 
necessarily  restricted  to  a  few. 

What  beauty  is,  is  a  question  which  the  most 
penetrating  minds  have  not  satisfactorily  answered ; 
nor,  were  I  able,  is  this  the  place  for  discussing  it. 
But  one  thing  I  would  say;  the  beauty  of  the  out- 
ward creation  is  intimately  related  to  the  lovely, 
grand,  interesting  attributes  of  the  soul.  It  is 
the  emblem  or  expression  of  these.  Matter  be- 
comes beautiful  to  us,  when  it  seems  to  lose  its 
material  aspect,  its  inertness,  finiteness  and  gross- 
ness,  and  by  the  ethereal  lightness  of  its  forms  and 
motions  seems  to  approach  spirit ;  when  it  images 
to  us  pure  and  gentle  affections  ;  when  it  spreads 
out  into  a  vastness  which  is  a  shadow  of  the  Infi- 
nite ;  or  when  hi  more  awfiil  shapes  and  move- 
ments it  speaks  of  the  Omnipotent.  Thus  out- 
ward beauty  is  akin  to  something  deeper  and 
unseen,  is  the  reflection  of  spiritual  attributes ; 


27 


and  of  consequence  the  way  to  see  and  feel  it 
more  and  more  keenly  is  to  cultivate  those  moral, 
religious,  intellectual  and  social  principles  of 
which  I  have  already  spoken,  and  which  are  the 
glory  of  the  spiritual  nature  ;  and  I  name  this, 
that  you  may  see,  what  I  am  anxious  to  show,  the 
harmony  which  subsists  among  all  branches  of  hu- 
man culture,  or  how  each  forwards  and  is  aided  by 
all. 

There  is  another  power,  which  each  man  should 
cultivate  according  to  his  ability,  but  which  is 
very  much  neglected  in  the  mass  of  the  people, 
and  that  is  the  power  of  Utterance.  A  man  was 
not  made  to  shut  up  his  mind  in  itself;  but  to  give 
it  voice  and  to  exchange  it  for  other  minds. 
Speech  is  one  of  our  grand  distinctions  from  the 
brute.  Our  power  over  others  lies  not  so  much 
in  the  amount  of  thought  within  us,  as  in  the 
power  of  bringing  it  out.  A  man  of  more  than 
ordinary  intellectual  vigor,  may,  for  want  of  ex- 
pression, be  a  cypher,  without  significance,  in 
society.  And  not  only  does  a  man  influence 
others,  but  he  greatly  aids  his  own  intellect,  by 
giving  distinct  and  forcible  utterance  to  his 
thoughts.  We  understand  ourselves  better,  our 
conceptions  grow  clearer,  by  the  very  effort  to 
make  them  clear  to  another.  Our  social  rank  too 
depends  a  good  deal  on  our  power  of  utterance. 
The  principal  distinction  between  what  are  called 
gentlemen  and  the  vulgar  lies  in  this,  that  the  lat- 


28 

ter  are  awkward  in  manners,  and  are  essentially 
wanting  in  propriety,  clearness,  grace,  and  force 
of  utterance.  A  man  who  cannot  open  his  lips 
without  breaking  a  rule  of  grammar,  without 
showing  in  his  dialect  or  brogue  or  uncouth  tones 
his  want  of  cultivation,  or  without  darkening  his 
meaning  by  a  confused,  unskilful  mode  of  commu- 
nication, cannot  take  the  place  to  which  perhaps 
his  native  good  sense  entitles  him.  To  have  in- 
tercourse with  respectable  people,  we  must  speak 
their  language.  On  this  account,  I  am  glad  that 
grammar  and  a  correct  pronunciation  are  taught  in 
the  common  schools  of  this  city.  These  are  not 
trifles  ;  nor  are  they  superfluous  to  any  class  of 
people.  They  give  a  man  access  to  social  advan- 
tages, on  which  his  improvement  very  much  de- 
pends. The  power  of  utterance  should  be  in- 
cluded by  all  in  their  plans  of  self-culture. 

I  have  now  given  a  few  views  of  the  culture, 
the  improvement,  which  every  man  should  pro- 
pose to  himself.  I  have  all  along  gone  on  the 
principle,  that  a  man  has  within  him  capacities  of 
growth,  which  deserve  and  will  reward  intense, 
unrelaxing  toil.  I  do  not  look  on  a  human  being 
as  a  machine,  made  to  be  kept  in  action  by  a  for- 
eign force,  to  accomplish  an  unvarying  succession 
of  motions,  to  do  a  fixed  amount  of  work,  and  then 
to  fall  to  pieces  at  death,  but  as  a  being  of  free  spir- 
itual powers  ;  and  I  place  little  value  on  any  cul- 


29 

ture,  but  that  which  aims  to  bring  out  these  and  to 
give  them  perpetual    impulse   and    expansion.     I 
am  aware,  that  this  view  is  far  from  being  univer- 
sal.    The  common  notion  has  been,  that  the  mass 
of  the  people  need  no  other  culture  than  is  neces- 
sary to  fit   them  for    their    various    trades  ;    and 
though  this  error  is  passing  away,  it  is  far  from 
being  exploded.     But  the  ground  of  a  man's  cul- 
ture  lies   in  his  nature,  not   in  his  calling.     His 
powers  are   to  be   unfolded   on   account   of  their 
inherent  dignity,  not  their  outward  direction.     He 
is    to   be    educated,    because   he    is    a   man,    not 
because  he  is  to  make  shoes,  nails,  or  pins.     A 
trade  is  plainly  not  the  great  end  of  his  being,  for 
his   mind  cannot  be   shut  up   in   it ;  his  force  of 
thought  cannot  be  exhausted  on  it.     He  has  facul- 
ties to  which  it  gives  no  action,  and  deep  wants  it 
cannot  answer.     Poems,  and  systems  of  theology 
and  philosophy,  which  have  made  some  noise  in 
the  world,  have  been  wrought  at  the  work-bench 
and    amidst    the    toils  of   the  field.     How   often, 
when   the  arms  are  mechanically  plying  a  trade, 
does  the  mind,   lost    in   reverie    or   day  dreams, 
escape  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  !     How  often  does 
the  pious  heart  of  woman  mingle  the  greatest  of 
all  thoughts,  that  of  God,  with  household  drudgery! 
Undoubtedly  a  man   is   to  perfect   himself  in  his 
trade,   for  by  it  he  is  to  earn  his  bread  and  to 
serve  the  community.     But  bread  or  subsistence 
is  not  his  highest  good  ;    for   if  it  were,  his   lot 


30 

would  be  harder  than  that  of  the  inferior  animals, 
for  whom  nature  spreads  a  table  and  weaves  a 
wardrobe,  without  a  care  of  their  own.  Nor  was  he 
made  chiefly  to  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  com- 
munity. A  rational  moral  being  cannot  without 
infinite  wrong  be  converted  into  a  mere  instru- 
ment of  others'  gratification.  He  is  necessarily 
an  end,  not  a  means.  A  mind,  in  which  are  sown 
the  seeds  of  wisdom,  disinterestedness,  firmness  of 
purpose,  and  piety,  is  worth  more  than  all  the  out- 
ward material  interests  of  a  world.  It  exists  for 
itself,  for  its  own  perfection,  and  must  not  be  en- 
slaved to  its  own  or  others'  animal  wants.  You 
tell  me,  that  a  liberal  culture  is  needed  for  men 
who  are  to  fill  high  stations,  but  not  for  such  as 
are  doomed  to  vulgar  labor.  I  answer,  that  Man 
is  a  greater  name  than  President  or  King.  Truth 
and  goodness  are  equally  precious,  in  whatever 
sphere  they  are  found.  Besides,  men  of  all  con- 
ditions sustain  equally  the  relations,  which  give 
birth  to  the  highest  virtues  and  demand  the  high- 
est powers.  The  laborer  is  not  a  mere  laborer. 
He  has  close,  tender,  responsible  connections  with 
God  and  his  fellow  creatures.  He  is  a  son,  hus- 
band, father,  friend  and  Christian.  He  belongs  to 
a  home,  a  country,  a  church,  a  race ;  and  is  such 
a  man  to  be  cultivated  only  for  a  trade  ?  Was  he 
not  sent  into  the  world  for  a  great  work.  To 
educate  a  child  perfectly  requires  profounder 
thought,  greater  wisdom,  than  to  govern  a  state ; 


31 

and  for  this  plain  reason,  that  the  interests  and 
wants  of  the  latter  are  more  superficial,  coarser, 
and  more  obvious,  than  the  spiritual  capacities, 
the  growth  of  thought  and  feeling,  and  the  subtle 
laws  of  the  mind,  which  must  all  be  studied  and 
comprehended,  before  the  work  of  education  can 
be  thoroughly  performed  ;  and  yet  to  all  condi- 
tions this  greatest  work  on  earth  is  equally  com- 
mitted by  God.  What  plainer  proof  do  we  need 
that  a  higher  culture,  than  has  yet  been  dreamt 
of,  is  needed  by  our  whole  race. 

II.  I  now  proceed  to  enquire  into  the  Means 
by  which  the  self-culture,  just  described,  may  be 
promoted ;  and  here  I  know  not  where  to  begin. 
The  subject  is  so  extensive,  as  well  as  important, 
that  I  feel  myself  unable  to  do  any  justice  to  it, 
especially  in  the  limits  to  which  I  am  confined. 
I  beg  you  to  consider  me  as  presenting  but  hints, 
and  such  as  have  offered  themselves  with  very 
little  research  to  my  own  mind. 

And,  first,  the  great  means  of  self-culture,  that 
which  includes  all  the  rest,  is  to  fasten  on  this 
culture  as  our  Great  End,  to  determine  deliber- 
ately and  solemnly,  that  we  will  make  the  most 
and  the  best  of  the  powers  which  God  has  given 
us.  Without  this  resolute  purpose,  the  best  means 
are  worth  little,  and  with  it  the  poorest  become 
mighty.  You  may  see  thousands,  with  every 
opportunity  of  improvement  which  wealth  can 


32 

gather,  with  teachers,  libraries,  and  apparatus, 
bringing  nothing  to  pass,  and  others,  with  few 
helps,  doing  wonders ;  and  simply  because  the 
latter  are  in  earnest,  and  the  former  not.  A  man 
in  earnest  finds  means,  or,  if  he  cannot  find, 
creates  them.  A  vigorous  purpose  makes  much 
out  of  little,  breathes  power  into  weak  instru- 
ments, disarms  difficulties,  and  even  turns  them 
into  assistances.  Every  condition  has  means  of 
progress,  if  we  have  spirit  enough  to  use  them. 
Some  volumes  have  recently  been  published,  giv- 
ing examples  or  histories  of  "knowledge  acquired 
under  difficulties;"  and  it  is  most  animating  to  see 
in  these  what  a  resolute  man  can  do  for  himself. 
A  great  idea,  like  this  of  Self-culture,  if  seized  on 
clearly  and  vigorously,  burns  like  a  living  coal  in 
the  soul.  He  who  deliberately  adopts  a  great  end, 
has,  by  this  act,  half  accomplished  it,  has  scaled 
the  chief  barrier  to  success. 

One  thing  is  essential  to  the  strong  purpose  of 
self-culture  now  insisted  on,  namely,  faith  in  the 
practicableness  of  this  culture.  A  great  object, 
to  awaken  resolute  choice,  must  be  seen  to  be 
within  our  reach.  The  truth,  that  progress  is  the 
very  end  of  our  being,  must  not  be  received  as  a 
tradition,  but  comprehended  and  felt  as  a  reality. 
Our  minds  are  apt  to  pine  and  starve,  by  being 
imprisoned  within  what  we  have  already  attained. 
A  true  faith,  looking  up  to  something  better, 
catching  glimpses  of  a  distant  perfection,  prophe- 


33 

sying  to  ourselves  improvements  proportioned  to 
our  conscientious  labors,  gives  energy  of  purpose, 
gives  wings  to  the  soul ;  and  this  faith  will  contin- 
ually grow,  by  acquainting  ourselves  with  our  own 
nature,  and  with  the  promises  of  divine  help  and 
immortal  life  which  abound  in  revelation. 

Some  are  discouraged  from  proposing  to  them- 
selves improvement,  by  the  false  notion,  that  the 
study  of  books,  which  their  situation  denies  them, 
is  the  all  important,  and  only  sufficient  means. 
Let  such  consider,  that  the  grand  volumes,  of 
which  all  our  books  are  transcripts,  I  mean, 
nature,  revelation,  the  human  soul,  and  human 
life,  are  freely  unfolded  to  every  eye.  The  great 
sources  of  wisdom  are  experience  and  observation ; 
and  these  are  denied  to  none.  To  open  and  fix 
our  eyes  upon  what  passes  without  and  within  us, 
is  the  most  fruitful  study.  Books  are  chiefly  use- 
ful, as  they  help  us  to  interpret  what  we  see  and 
experience.  When  they  absorb  men,  as  they 
sometimes  do,  and  turn  them  from  observation  of 
nature  and  life,  they  generate  a  learned  folly,  for 
which  the  plain  sense  of  the  laborer  could  not  be 
exchanged  but  at  great  loss.  It  deserves  attention 
that  the  greatest  men  have  been  formed  without 
the  studies,  which  at  present  are  thought  by  many 
most  needful  to  improvement.  Homer,  Plato, 
Demosthenes,  never  heard  the  name  of  chemistry, 
and  knew  less  of  the  solar  system,  than  a  boy  in 
our  common  schools.  Not  that  these  sciences  are 
5 


34 

unimportant ;  but  the  lesson  is,  that  human  im- 
provement never  wants  the  means,  where  the  pur- 
pose of  it  is  Jeep  and  earnest  in  the  soul. 

The  purpose  of  self-culture,  this  is  the  life  and 
strength  of  all  the  methods  we  use  for  our  own 
elevation.  I  reiterate  this  principle  on  account  of 
its  great  importance ;  and  I  would  add  a  remark 
to  prevent  its  misapprehension.  When  I  speak  of 
the  purpose  of  self-culture,  I  mean,  that  it  should 
be  sincere.  In  other  words,  we  must  make  self- 
culture  really  and  truly  our  end,  or  choose  it  for  its 
own  sake,  and  not  merely  as  a  means  or  instrument 
of  something  else.  And  here  I  touch  a  common  and 
very  pernicious  error.  Not  a  few  persons  desire 
to  improve  themselves  only  to  get  property  and  to 
rise  in  the  world ;  but  such  do  not  properly  choose 
improvement,  but  something  outward  and  foreign 
to  themselves ;  and  so  low  an  impulse  can  produce 
only  a  stinted,  partial,  uncertain  growth.  A  man, 
as  I  have  said,  is  to  cultivate  himself  because  he  is 
a  man.  He  is  to  start  with  the  conviction,  that 
there  is  something  greater  within  him  than  in  the 
whole  material  creation,  than  in  all  the  worlds 
which  press  on  the  eye  and  ear;  and  that  inward 
improvements  have  a  worth  and  dignity  in  them- 
selves, quite  distinct  from  the  power  they  give  over 
outward  things.  Undoubtedly  a  man  is  to  labor 
to  better  his  condition,  but  first  to  better  himself. 
If  he  knows  no  higher  use  of  his  mind  than  to 
invent  and  drudge  for  his  body,  his  case  is  desper- 
ate as  far  as  culture  is  concerned. 


35 

In  these  remarks,  I  do  not  mean  to  recommend 
to  the  laborer  indifference  to  his  outward  lot.  I 
hold  it  important,  that  every  man  in  every  class 
should  possess  the  means  of  comfort,  of  health,  of 
neatness  in  food  and  apparel,  and  of  occasional 
retirement  and  leisure.  These  are  good  in  them- 
selves, to  be  sought  for  their  own  sakes,  and  still 
more,  they  are  important  means  of  the  self-culture 
for  which  I  am  pleading.  A  clean,  comfortable 
dwelling,  with  wholesome  meals,  is  no  small  aid 
to  intellectual  and  moral  progress.  A  man  living 
in  a  damp  cellar  or  a  garret  open  to  rain  and  snow, 
breathing  the  foul  air  of  a  filthy  room,  and  striving 
without  success  to  appease  hunger  on  scanty  or 
unsavoury  food,  is  in  danger  of  abandoning  himself 
to  a  desperate,  selfish  recklessness.  Improve  then 
your  lot.  Multiply  comforts,  and  still  more  get 
wealth  if  you  can  by  honorable  means,  and  if  it 
do  not  cost  too  much.  A  true  cultivation  of  the 
mind  is  fitted  to  forward  you  in  your  worldly 
concerns,  and  you  ought  to  use  it  for  this  end. 
Only,  beware,  lest  this  end  master  you;  lest  your 
motives  sink  as  your  condition  improves ;  lest  you 
fall  victims  to  the  miserable  passion  of  vying  with 
those  around  you  in  show,  luxury  and  expense. 
Cherish  a  true  respect  for  yourselves.  Feel  that 
your  nature  is  worth  more  than  every  thing  which 
is  foreign  to  you.  He  who  has  not  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  own  rational  and  spiritual  being,  of 
something  within  himself  superior  to  the  world 


36 

and  allied  to  the  divinity,  wants  the  true  spring  of 
that  purpose  of  self-culture,  on  which  I  have  in- 
sisted as  the  first  of  all  the  means  of  improvement. 

I  proceed  to  another  important  means  of  Self- 
culture,  and  this  is  the  control  of  the  animal  appe- 
tites. To  raise  the  moral  and  intellectual  nature, 
we  must  put  down  the  animal.  Sensuality  is  the 
abyss  in  which  very  many  souls  are  plunged  and 
lost.  Among  the  most  prosperous  classes,  what  a 
vast  amount  of  intellectual  life  is  drowned  in  lux- 
urious excesses.  It  is  one  great  curse  of  wealth, 
that  it  is  used  to  pamper  the  senses ;  and  among 
the  poorer  classes,  though  luxury  is  wanting,  yet 
a  gross  feeding  often  prevails,  under  which  the 
spirit  is  whelmed.  It  is  a  sad  sight  to  walk  through 
our  streets,  and  to  see  how  many  countenances 
bear  marks  of  a  lethargy  and  a  brutal  coarseness, 
induced  by  unrestrained  indulgence.  Whoever 
would  cultivate  the  soul,  must  restrain  the  appe- 
tites. I  am  not  an  advocate  for  the  doctrine,  that 
animal  food  was  not  meant  for  man  ;  but  that  this 
is  used  among  us  to  excess,  that  as  a  people  wre 
should  gain  much  in  cheerfulness,  activity,  and 
buoyancy  of  mind,  by  less  gross  and  stimulating 
food,  I  am  strongly  inclined  to  believe.  Above 
all,  let  me  urge  on  those,  who  would  bring  out  and 
elevate  their  higher  nature,  to  abstain  from  the 
use  of  spirituous  liquors.  This  bad  habit  is  dis- 
tinguished from  all  others  by  the  ravages  it  makes 


37 

on  the  reason,  the  intellect ;  and  this  effect  is 
produced  to  a  mournful  extent,  even  when  drunk- 
enness is  escaped.  Not  a  few  men,  called  tempe- 
rate, and  who  have  thought  themselves  such,  have 
learned,  on  abstaining  from  the  use  of  ardent 
spirits,  that  for  years  their  minds  had  been  cloud- 
ed, impaired  by  moderate  drinking,  without  their 
suspecting  the  injury.  Multitudes  in  this  city  are 
bereft  of  half  their  intellectual  energy,  by  a  degree 
of  indulgence  which  passes  for  innocent.  Of  all 
the  foes  of  the  working  class,  this  is  the  deadliest. 
Nothing  has  done  more  to  keep  down  this  class, 
to  destroy  their  self-respect,  to  rob  them  of  their 
just  influence  in  the  community,  to  render  profit- 
less the  means  of  improvement  within  their  reach, 
than  the  use  of  ardent  spirits  as  a  drink.  They 
are  called  on  to  withstand  this  practice,  as  they 
regard  their  honor,  and  would  take  their  just  place 
in  society.  They  are  under  solemn  obligations  to 
give  their  sanction  to  every  effort  for  its  suppres- 
sion. They  ought  to  regard  as  their  worst  ene- 
mies, (though  unintentionally  such,)  as  the  enemies 
of  their  rights,  dignity,  and  influence,  the  men 
who  desire  to  flood  city  and  country  with  distilled 
poison.  I  lately  visited  a  flourishing  village,  and 
on  expressing  to  one  of  the  respected  inhabitants 
the  pleasure  I  felt  in  witnessing  so  many  signs 
of  progress,  he  replied,  that  one  of  the  causes 
of  the  prosperity  I  witnessed,  was  the  disuse 
of  ardent  spirits  by  the  people.  And  this  refor- 


38 

mation  we  may  be  assured  wrought  something 
higher  than  outward  prosperity.  In  almost  every 
family  so  improved,  we  cannot  doubt  that  the  ca- 
pacities of  the  parent  for  intellectual  and  moral 
improvement  were  enlarged,  and  the  means  of  ed- 
ucation made  more  effectual  to  the  child.  I  call 
on  working  men  to  take  hold  of  the  cause  of  tem- 
perance as  peculiarly  their  cause.  These  remarks 
are  the  more  needed,  in  consequence  of  the  efforts 
made  far  and  wide,  to  annul  at  the  present  moment 
a  recent  law  for  the  suppression  of  the  sale  of 
ardent  spirits  in  such  quantities  as  favor  intemper- 
ance. I  know,  that  there  are  intelligent  and  good 
men,  who  believe,  that,  in  enacting  this  law,  gov- 
ernment transcended  its  limits,  left  its  true  path, 
and  established  a  precedent  for  legislative  inter- 
ference with  all  our  pursuits  and  pleasures.  No 
one  here  looks  more  jealously  on  government  than 
myself.  But  I  maintain,  that  this  is  a  case  which 
stands  by  itself,  which  can  be  confounded  with  no 
other,  and  on  which  government  from  its  very  na- 
ture and  end  is  peculiarly  bound  to  act.  Let  it 
never  be  forgotten,  that  the  great  end  of  govern- 
ment, its  highest  function,  is,  not  to  make  roads, 
grant  charters,  originate  improvements,  but  to 
prevent  or  repress  Crimes  against  individual  rights 
and  social  order.  For  this  end  it  ordains  a  penal 
code,  erects  prisons,  and  inflicts  fearful  punish- 
ments. Now  if  it  be  true,  that  a  vast  proportion 
of  the  crimes,  which  government  is  instituted  to 


39 


prevent  and  repress,  have  their  origin  in  the 
use  of  ardent  spirits  ;  if  our  poor-houses,  work- 
houses, jails  and  penitentiaries  are  tenanted  in  a 
great  degree  by  those,  whose  first  and  chief  im- 
pulse to  crime  came  from  the  distillery  and  dram- 
shop ;  if  murder  and  theft,  the  most  fearful  out- 
rages on  property  and  life,  are  most  frequently 
the  issues  and  consummation  of  intemperance,  is 
not  government  bound  to  restrain  by  legislation 
the  vending  of  the  stimulus  to  these  terrible  social 
wrongs  ?  Is  government  never  to  act  as  a  parent, 
never  to  remove  the  causes  or  occasion  of  wrong 
doing  ?  Has  it  but  one  instrument  for  repressing 
crime,  namely,  public,  infamous,  punishment,  an 
evil  only  inferior  to  crime  ?  Is  government  a 
usurper,  does  it  wander  beyond  its  sphere,  by  im- 
posing restraints  on  an  article,  which  does  no 
imaginable  good,  which  can  plead  no  benefit  con- 
ferred on  body  or  mind,  which  unfits  the  citizen 
for  the  discharge  of  his  duty  to  his  country,  and 
which,  above  all,  stirs  up  men  to  the  perpetration 
of  most  of  the  crimes,  from  which  it  is  the  highest 
and  most  solemn  office  of  government  to  protect 
society  1 

I  come  now  to  another  important  measure  of 
self-culture,  and  this  is,  intercourse  with  superior 
minds.  I  have  insisted  on  our  own  activity  as  es- 
sential to  our  progress  ;  but  we  were  not  made  to 
live  or  advance  alone.  Society  is  as  needful  to  us 


40 

as  air  or  food.  A  child  doomed  to  utter  loneli- 
ness, growing  up  without  sight  or  sound  of  human 
beings,  would  not  put  forth  equal  power  with 
many  brutes  ;  and  a  man,  never  brought/into  con- 
tact with  minds  superior  to  his  own,  will  probably 
run  one  and  the  same  dull  round  of  thought  and 
action  to  the  end  of  life. 

It  is  chiefly  through  books  that  we  enjoy  inter- 
course with  superior  minds,  and  these  invaluable 
means  of  communication  are  in  the  reach  of  all. 
In  the  best  books,  great  men  talk  to  us,  give  us  their 
most  precious  thoughts,  and  pour  their  souls  into 
ours.  God  be  thanked  for  books.  They  are  the 
voices  of  the  distant  and  the  dead,  and  make  us 
heirs  of  the  spiritual  life  of  past  ages.  Books  are 
the  true  levellers.  They  give  to  all,  who  will 
faithfully  use  them,  the  society,  the  spiritual  pres- 
ence of  the  best  and  greatest  of  our  race.  No 
matter  how  poor  I  am.  No  matter  though  the 
prosperous  of  my  own  time  will  not  enter  my  ob- 
scure dwelling.  If  the  Sacred  Writers  will  enter 
and  take  up  their  abode  under  my  roof,  if  Milton 
will  cross  my  threshold  to  sing  to  me  of  Paradise, 
and  Shakspeare  to  open  to  me  the  worlds  of  imag- 
ination and  the  workings  of  the  human  heart, 
and  Franklin  to  enrich  me  with  his  practical  wis- 
dom, I  shall  not  pine  for  want  of  intellectual 
companionship,  and  I  may  become  a  cultivated 
man  though  excluded  from  what  is  called  the 
best  society  in  the  place  where  I  live. 


41 

To  make  this  means  of  culture  effectual,  a  man 
must  select  good  books,  such  as  have  been  written 
by  right  minded  and  strong  minded  men,  real 
thinkers,  who  instead  of  diluting  by  repetition 
what  others  say,  have  something  to  say  for  them- 
selves, and  write  to  give  relief  to  full  earnest 
souls ;  and  these  works  must  not  be  skimmed  over 
for  amusement,  but  read  with  fixed  attention  and 
a  reverential  love  of  truth.  In  selecting  books, 
we  may  be  aided  much  by  those  who  have  studied 
more  than  ourselves.  But,  after  all,  it  is  best  to 
be  determined  in  this  particular  a  good  deal  by 
our  own  tastes.  The  best  books  for  a  man  are  not 
always  those  which  the  wise  recommend,  but  oftener 
those  which  meet  the  peculiar  wants,  the  natural 
thirst  of  his  mind,  and  therefore  awaken  interest 
and  rivet  thought.  And  here  it  may  be  well  to 
observe,  not  only  in  regard  to  books  but  in  other  re- 
spects, that  self-culture  must  vary  with  the  individ- 
ual. All  means  do  not  equally  suit  us  all.  A  man 
must  unfold  himself  freely,  and  should  respect  the 
peculiar  gifts  or  biasses  by  which  nature  has  dis- 
tinguished him  from  others.  Self-culture  does  not 
demand  the  sacrifice  of  individuality.  It  does  not 
regularly  apply  an  established  machinery,  for  the 
sake  of  torturing  every  man  into  one  rigid  shape, 
called  perfection.  As  the  human  countenance, 
with  the  same  features  in  us  all,  is  diversified 
without  end  in  the  race,  and  is  never  the  same  in 
any  two  individuals,  so  the  human  soul,  with  the 
6 


42 

same  grand  powers  and  laws,  expands  into  an  infi- 
nite variety  of  forms,  and  would  be  wofully  stinted 
by  modes  of  culture  requiring  all  men  to  learn 
the  same  lesson  or  to  bend  to  the  same  rules. 

I  know  how  hard  it  is  to  some  men,  especially  to 
those  who  spend  much  time  in  manual  labor,  to  fix 
attention  on  books.  Let  them  strive  to  overcome  the 
difficulty,  by  choosing  subjects  of  deep  interest,  or 
by  reading  in  company  with  those  whom  they  love. 
Nothing  can  supply  the  place  of  books.  They 
are  cheering  or  soothing  companions  in  solitude, 
illness,  affliction.  The  wealth  of  both  continents 
would  not  compensate  for  the  good  they  impart. 
Let  every  man,  if  possible,  gather  some  good 
books  under  his  roof,  and  obtain  access  for  him- 
self and  family  to  some  social  library.  Almost 
any  luxury  should  be  sacrificed  to  this. 

One  of  the  very  interesting  features  of  our 
times,  is  the  multiplication  of  books,  and  their  dis- 
distribution  through  all  conditions  of  society. 
At  a  small  expense,  a  man  can  now  possess  him- 
self of  the  most  precious  treasures  of  English  liter- 
ature. Books,  once  confined  to  a  few  by  their 
costliness,  are  now  accessible  to  the  multitute  ; 
and  in  this  way  a  change  of  habits  is  going  on  in 
society,  highly  favorable  to  the  culture  of  the 
people.  Instead  of  depending  on  casual  rumor 
and  loose  conversation  for  most  of  their  knowledge 
and  objects  of  thought;  instead  of  forming  their 
judgments  in  crowds,  and  receiving  their  chief 


43 

I 
excitement  from  the  voice  of  neighbors,  men  are 

now  learning  to  study  and  reflect  alone,  to  follow 
out  subjects  continuously,  to  determine  for  them- 
selves what  shall  engage  their  minds,  and  to  call 
to  their  aid  the  knowledge,  original  views,  and 
reasonings  of  men  of  all  countries  and  ages  ;  and 
the  results  must  be,  a  deliberateness  and  indepen- 
dence of  judgment,  and  a  thoroughness  and  extent 
of  information,  unknown  in  former  times.  The 
diffusion  of  these  silent  teachers,  books,  through 
the  whole  community,  is  to  work  greater  effects 
than  artillery,  machinery,  and  legislation.  Its 
peaceful  agency  is  to  supersede  stormy  revolutions. 
The  culture,  which  it  is  to  spread,  whilst  an 
unspeakable  good  to  the  individual,  is  also  to 
become  the  stability  of  nations. 

Another  important  means  of  self-culture,  is  to 
free  ourselves  from  the  power  of  human  opinion 
and  example,  except  as  far  as  this  is  sanctioned 
by  our  own  deliberate  judgment.  We  are  all  prone 
to  keep  the  level  of  those  we  live  with,  to  repeat 
their  words,  and  dress  our  minds  as  well  as  bodies 
after  their  fashion  ;  and  hence  the  spiritless  tame- 
ness  of  our  characters  and  lives.  Our  greatest 
danger,  is  not  from  the  grossly  wicked  around  us, 
but  from  the  worldly,  unreflecting  multitude,  who 
are  borne  along  as  a  stream  by  foreign  impulse, 
and  bear  us  along  with  them.  Even  the  influence 
of  superior  minds  may  harm  us,  by  bowing  us  to 


44 

servile    acquiescence    and  damping    our   spiritual 
activity.     The  great  use  of  intercourse  with  other 
minds,  is  to  stir  up  our  own,  to  whet  our  appetite 
for  truth,  to  carry  our  thoughts  beyond  their  old 
tracks.     We  need  connexions  with  great  thinkers 
to  make  us  thinkers  too.     One  of  the  chief  arts 
of  self-culture,    is    to    unite    the  childlike  teach- 
ableness, which  gratefully  welcomes  light  from  ev- 
ery human  being  who  can  give  it,  with  manly  resis- 
tance of  opinions  however  current,  of  influences 
however  generally  revered,  which  do  not  approve 
themselves  to  our  deliberate  judgment.    You  ought 
indeed  patiently  and  conscientiously  to  strengthen 
your  reason  by  other  men's  intelligence,  but  you 
must  not  prostrate  it  before  them.     Especially  if 
there  springs  up  within  you  any  view  of  God's  word 
or    universe,   any  sentiment    or   aspiration   which 
seems  to  you  of  a  higher  order   than  what  you 
meet  abroad,  give  reverent  heed  to  it ;   enquire 
into  it  earnestly,  solemnly.     Do  not  trust  it  blind- 
ly, for  it  may  be  an  illusion  ;    but  it  may  be  the 
Divinity  moving  within  you,  a  new  revelation,  not 
supernatural  but  still    most  precious,  of   truth  or 
duty  ;   and  if  after  enquiry  it  so  appear,  then  let  no 
clamor,  or  scorn,  or  desertion  turn  you  from  it. 
Be  true  to  your  own  highest  convictions.     Intima- 
tions from  our  own  souls  of  something  more  per- 
fect than  others  teach,   if  faithfully  followed,  give 
us  a  consciousness  of  spiritual  force  and  progress, 
never  experienced   by  the  vulgar  of  high  life  or 


45 

low  life,  who  march,  as  they   are  drilled,  to  the 
step  of  their  times. 

Some,  I  know,  will  wonder,  that  I  should  think 
the  mass  of  the  people  capable  of  such  intimations 
and  glimpses  of  truth,  as  I  have  just  supposed. 
These  are  commonly  thought  to  be  the  prerogative 
of  men  of  genius,  who  seem  to  be  born  to  give 
law  to  the  minds  of  the  multitude.  Undoubtedly 
nature  has  her  nobility,  and  sends  forth  a  few  to 
be  eminently  "  lights  of  the  world/'  But  it  is 
also  true  that  a  portion  of  the  same  divine  fire  is 
given  to  all ;  for  the  many  could  not  receive  with 
a  loving  reverence  the  quickening  influences  of 
the  few,  were  there  not  essentially  the  same 
spiritual  life  in  both.  The  minds  of  the  multitude 
are  not  masses  of  passive  matter,  created  to 
receive  impressions  unresistingly  from  abroad. 
They  are  not  wholly  shaped  by  foreign  instruc- 
tion; but  have  a  native  force,  a  spring  of  thought 
in  themselves.  Even  the  child's  mind  outruns  its 
lessons,  and  overflows  in  questionings  which  bring 
the  wisest  to  a  stand.  Even  the  child  starts  the 
great  problems,  which  philosophy  has  labored  to 
solve  for  ages.  But  on  this  subject  I  cannot  now 
enlarge.  Let  me  only  say,  that  the  power  of  orig- 
inal thought  is  particularly  manifested  in  those, 
who  thirst  for  progress,  who  are  bent  on  unfolding 
their  whole  nature.  A  man  who  wakes  up  to  the 
consciousness  of  having  been  created  for  progress 
and  perfection,  looks  with  new  eyes  on  himself 


46 

and  on  the  world  in  which  he  lives.  This  great 
truth  stirs  the  soul  from  its  depths,  breaks  up  old 
associations  of  ideas,  and  establishes  new  ones, 
just  as  a  mighty  agent  of  chemistry,  brought  into 
contact  with  natural  substances,  dissolves  the  old 
affinities  which  had  bound  their  particles  together, 
and  arranges  them  anew.  This  truth  particularly 
aids  us  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  human  life. 
By  revealing  to  us  the  end  of  our  being,  it  helps 
us  to  comprehend  more  and  more  the  wonderful, 
the  infinite  system,  to  which  we  belong.  A  man  in 
the  common  walks  of  life,  who  has  faith  in  perfec- 
tion, in  the  unfolding  of  the  human  spirit,  as  the 
great  purpose  of  God,  possesses  more  the  secret 
of  the  universe,  perceives  more  the  harmonies 
or  mutual  adaptations  of  the  world  without  and 
the  world  within  him,  is  a  wiser  interpreter  of 
Providence,  and  reads  nobler  lessons  of  duty  in 
the  events  which  pass  before  him,  than  the  pro- 
foundest  philosopher  who  wants  this  grand  cen- 
tral truth.  Thus  illuminations,  inward  sugges- 
tions, are  not  confined  to  a  favored  few,  but  visit 
all  who  devote  themselves  to  a  generous  self- 
culture. 

Another  means  of  Self-culture  may  be  found  by 
every  man  in  his  Condition  or  Occupation,  be  it 
what  it  may.  Had  I  time,  I  might  go  through  all 
conditions  of  life,  from  the  most  conspicuous  to 
the  most  obscure,  and  might  show  how  each  furn- 


47 

ishes  continual  aids  to  improvement.  But  I  will 
take  one  example,  and  that  is,  of  a  man  living  by 
manual  labor.  This  may  be  made  the  means  of 
Self-culture.  For  instance,  in  almost  all  labor,  a 
man  exchanges  his  strength  for  an  equivalent  in 
the  form  of  wages,  purchase-money,  or  some 
other  product.  In  other  words,  labor  is  a  system 
of  contracts,  bargains,  imposing  mutual  obliga- 
tions. Now  the  man,  who,  in  working,  no  matter 
in  what  way,  strives  perpetually  to  fulfil  his  obli- 
gations thoroughly,  to  do  his  whole  work  faith- 
fully, to  be  honest  not  because  honesty  is  the  best 
policy,  but  for  the  sake  of  justice,  and  that  he 
may  render  to  every  man  his  due,  such  a  laborer 
is  continually  building  up  in  himself  one  of  the 
greatest  principles  of  morality  and  religion.  Ev- 
ery blow  on  the  anvil,  on  the  earth,  or  whatever 
material  he  works  upon,  contributes  something  to 
the  perfection  of  his  nature. 

Nor  is  this  all.  Labor  is  a  school  of  benevo- 
lence as  well  as  justice.  A  man  to  support  him- 
self must  serve  others.  He  must  do  or  produce 
something  for  their  comfort  or  gratification.  This 
is  one  of  the  beautiful  ordinations  of  Providence, 
that,  to  get  a  living,  a  man  must  be  useful.  Now 
this  usefulness  ought  to  be  an  end  in  his  labor  as 
truly  as  to  earn  his  living.  He  ought  to  think  of 
the  benefit  of  those  he  works  for,  as  well  as  of  his 
own ;  and  in  so  doing,  in  desiring  amidst  his 
sweat  and  toil  to  serve  others  as  well  as  himself, 


48 

he  is  exercising  and  growing  in  benevolence,  as 
truly  as  if  he  were  distributing  bounty  with  a 
large  hand  to  the  poor.  Such  a  motive  hallows 
and  dignifies  the  commonest  pursuit.  It  is  strange, 
that  laboring  men  do  not  think  more  of  the  vast 
usefulness  of  their  toils,  and  take  a  benevolent 
pleasure  in  them  on  this  account.  This  beautiful 
city,  with  its  houses,  furniture,  markets,  public 
walks,  and  numberless  accommodations,  has  grown 
up  under  the  hands  of  artizans  and  other  laborers, 
and  ought  they  not  to  take  a  disinterested  joy  in 
their  work  ?  One  would  think,  that  a  carpenter 
or  mason,  on  passing  a  house  which  he  had 
reared,  would  say  to  himself,  "  this  work  of  mine 
is  giving  comfort  and  enjoyment  every  day  and 
hour  to  a  family,  and  will  continue  to  be  a  kindly 
shelter,  a  domestic  gathering-place,  an  abode  of 
affection,  for  a  century  or  more  after  I  sleep  in 
the  dust;"  and  ought  not  a  generous  satisfaction 
to  spring  up  at  the  thought  ?  It  is  by  thus  inter- 
weaving goodness  with  common  labors,  that  we 
give  it  strength  and  make  it  a  habit  of  the  soul. 

Again.  Labor  may  be  so  performed  as  to  be  a 
high  impulse  to  the  mind.  Be  a  man's  vocation 
what  it  may,  his  rule  should  be  to  do  its  duties 
perfectly,  to  do  the  best  he  can,  and  thus  to  make 
perpetual  progress  in  his  art.  In  other  words, 
Perfection  should  be  proposed  ;  and  this  I  urge 
not  only  for  its  usefulness  to  society,  nor  for  the 
sincere  pleasure  which  a  man  takes  in  seeing  a 


49 

work  well  done.  This  is  an  important  means  of 
Self-culture.  In  this  way  the  idea  of  Perfection 
takes  root  in  the  mind,  and  spreads  far  beyond  the 
man's  trade.  He  gets  a  tendency  towards  com- 
pleteness in  whatever  he  undertakes.  Slack, 
slovenly  performance  in  any  department  of  life  is 
more  apt  to  offend  him.  His  standard  of  action 
rises,  and  every  thing  is  better  done  for  his 
thoroughness  in  his  common  vocation. 

There  is  one  circumstance  attending  all  condi- 
tions of  life,  which  may  and  ought  to  be  turned  to 
the  use  of  self-culture.  Every  condition,  be  it 
what  it  may,  has  hardships,  hazards,  pains.  We 
try  to  escape  them  ;  we  pine  for  a  sheltered  lot, 
for  a  smooth  path,  for  cheering  friends,  and  un- 
broken success.  But  providence  ordains  storms, 
disasters,  hostilities,  sufferings ;  and  the  great  ques- 
tion, whether  we  shall  live  to  any  purpose  or  not, 
whether  we  shall  grow  strong  in  mind  and  heart, 
or  be  weak  and  pitiable,  depends  on  nothing  so 
much  as  on  our  use  of  these  adverse  circumstances. 
Outward  evils  are  designed  to  school  our  passions, 
and  to  rouse  our  faculties  and  virtues  into  intenser 
action.  Sometimes  they  seem  to  create  new  pow- 
ers. Difficulty  is  the  element,  and  resistance  the 
true  work  of  a  man.  Self-culture  never  goes  on 
so  fast,  as  when  embarrassed  circumstances,  the 
opposition  of  men  or  the  elements,  unexpected 
changes  of  the  times,  or  other  forms  of  suffering, 
instead  of  disheartning,  throw  us  on  our  inward 
7 


50 

resources,  turn  us  for  strength  to  God,  clear  up  to 
us  the  great  purpose  of  life,  and  inspire  calm  reso- 
lution. No  greatness  or  goodness  is  worth  much, 
unless  tried  in  these  fires.  Hardships  are  not  on 
this  account  to  be  sought  for.  They  come  fast 
enough  of  themselves,  and  we  are  in  more  danger 
of  sinking  under,  than  of  needing  them.  But 
when  God  sends  them,  they  are  noble  means  of 
self-culture,  and  as  such,  let  us  meet  and  bear 
them  cheerfully.  Thus  all  parts  of  our  condition 
may  be  pressed  into  the  service  of  self-improve- 
ment. 

I  have  time  to  consider  but  one  more  means 
of  self-culture.  We  find  it  in  our  Free  Gov- 
ernment, in  our  Political  relations  and  duties. 
It  is  a  great  benefit  of  free  institutions,  that  they 
do  much  to  awaken  and  keep  in  action  a  nation's 
mind.  We  are  told,  that  the  education  of  the 
multitude  is  necessary  to  the  support  of  a  re- 
public; but  it  is  equally  true,  that  a  republic  is 
a  powerful  means  of  educating  the  multitude.  It 
is  the  people's  University.  In  a  free  state,  solemn 
responsibilities  are  imposed  on  every  citizen; 
great  subjects  are  to  be  discussed ;  great  interests 
to  be  decided.  The  individual  is  called  to  deter- 
mine measures  affecting  the  well-being  of  millions 
and  the  destinies  of  posterity.  He  must  consider 
not  only  the  internal  relations  of  his  native  land, 
but  its  connexion  with  foreign  states,  and  judge 


51 

of  a  policy  which  touches  the  whole  civilized 
world.  He  is  called  by  his  participation  in  the 
national  sovereignty,  to  cherish  public  spirit,  a 
regard  to  the  general  weal.  A  man  who  purposes 
to  discharge  faithfully  these  obligations,  is  carrying 
on  a  generous  self-culture.  The  great  public 
questions,  which  divide  opinion  around  him  and 
provoke  earnest  discussion,  of  necessity  invigorate 
his  intellect,  and  accustom  him  to  look  beyond 
himself.  He  grows  up  to  a  robustness,  force,  en- 
largement of  mind,  unknown  under  despotic  rule. 

It  may  be  said  that  I  am  describing  what  free 
institutious  ought  to  do  for  the  character  of  the  in- 
dividual, not  their  actual  effects ;  and  the  objection, 
I  must  own,  is  too  true.  Our  institutions  do  not 
cultivate  us,  as  they  might  and  should  ;  and  the 
chief  cause  of  the  failure  is  plain.  It  is  the 
strength  of  party  spirit;  and  so  blighting  is  its 
influence,  so  fatal  to  self-culture,  that  I  feel  my- 
self bound  to  warn  every  man  against  it,  who  has 
any  desire  of  improvement.  I  do  not  tell  you  it 
will  destroy  your  country;  It  wages  a  worse  war 
against  yourselves.  Truth,  justice,  candor,  fair 
dealing,  sound  judgment,  self-control,  and  kind 
affections  are  its  natural  and  perpetual  prey. 

I  do  not  say,  that  you  must  take  no  side  in  politics. 
The  parties  which  prevail  around  you  differ  in 
character,  principles,  and  spirit,  though  far  less 
than  the  exaggeration  of  passion  affirms;  and,  as 
far  as  conscience  allows,  a  man  should  support  that. 


52 

which  he  thinks  best.  In  one  respect,  however, 
all  parties  agree.  They  all  foster  that  pestilent 
spirit,  which  I  now  condemn.  In  all  of  them, 
party  spirit  rages.  Associate  men  together  for 
a  common  cause,  be  it  good  or  bad,  and  array 
against  them  a  body  resolutely  pledged  to  an 
opposite  interest,  and  a  new  passion,  quite  dis- 
tinct from  the  original  sentiment  which  brought 
them  together,  a  fierce,  fiery  zeal,  consisting 
chiefly  of  aversion  to  those  who  differ  from 
them,  is  roused  within  them  into  fearful  ac- 
tivity. Human  nature  seems  incapable  of  a 
stronger,  more  unrelenting  passion.  It  is  hard 
enough  for  an  individual,  when  contending  all 
alone  for  an  interest  or  an  opinion,  to  keep  down 
his  pride,  wilfulness,  love  of  victory,  anger  and 
other  personal  feelings.  But  let  him  join  a  multi- 
tude in  the  same  warfare,  and,  without  singular 
self-control,  he  receives  into  his  single  breast  the 
vehemence,  obstinacy  and  vindictiveness  of  all. 
The  triumph  of  his  party  becomes  immeasurably 
dearer  to  him  than  the  principle,  true  or  false, 
which  was  the  original  ground  of  division.  The 
conflict  becomes  a  struggle  not  for  principle  but 
for  power,  for  victory  ;  and  the  desperateness, 
the  wickedness  of  such  struggles,  is  the  great 
burden  of  history.  In  truth,  it  matters  little 
what  men  divide  about,  whether  it  be  a  foot  of 
land  or  precedence  in  a  procession.  Let  them 
but  begin  to  fight  for  it,  and  self-will,  ill-will,  the 


53 

rage  for  victory,  the  dread  of  mortification  and 
defeat,  makes  the  trifle  as  weighty  as  a  matter  of 
life  and  death.  The  Greek  or  Eastern  empire 
was  shaken  to  its  foundation  by  parties,  which  dif- 
fered only  about  the  merits  of  charioteers  at  the 
amphitheatre.  Party  spirit  is  singularly  hostile 
to  moral  independence.  A  man,  in  proportion 
as  he  drinks  into  it,  sees,  hears,  judges  by  the 
senses  and  understandings  of  his  party.  He 
surrenders  the  freedom  of  a  man,  the  right  of 
using  and  speaking  his  own  mind,  and  echoes  the 
applauses  or  maledictions,  with  which  the  leaders  or 
passionate  partizans  see  fit  that  the  country  should 
ring.  On  all  points  parties  are  to  be  distrusted  ; 
but  on  no  one  so  much  as  on  the  character  of  op- 
ponents. These,  if  you  may  trust  what  you  hear, 
are  always  men  without  principle  and  truth,  de- 
voured by  selfishness,  and  thirsting  for  their  own 
elevation,  though  on  their  country's  ruin.  When 
I  was  young,  I  was  accustomed  to  hear  pro- 
nounced with  abhorrence,  almost  with  execration, 
the  names  of  men,  who  are  now  hailed  by  their 
former  foes  as  the  champions  of  grand  principles 
and  as  worthy  of  the  highest  public  trusts.  This 
lesson  of  early  experience,  which  later  years 
have  corroborated,  will  never  be  forgotten. 

Of  our  present  political  divisions  I  have  of 
course  nothing  to  say.  But  among  the  current 
topics  of  party,  there  are  certain  accusations  and 
recriminations,  grounded  on  differences  of  social 


54 

condition,  which  seem  to  me  so  unfriendly  to  the 
improvement  of  individuals  and  the  community, 
that  I  ask  the  privilege  of  giving  them  a  moment's 
notice.  On  one  side  we  are  told,  that  the  rich 
are  disposed  to  trample  on  the  poor  ;  and  on  the 
other,  that  the  poor  look  with  evil  eye  and  hostile 
purpose  on  the  possessions  of  the  rich.  These 
outcries  seem  to  me  alike  devoid  of  truth  and 
alike  demoralizing.  As  for  the  rich,  who  consti- 
tute but  a  handful  of  our  population,  who  possess 
not  one  peculiar  privilege,  and,  w^hat  is  more,  who 
possess  comparatively  little  of  the  property  of  the 
country,  it  is  wonderful,  that  they  should  be  ob- 
jects of  alarm.  The  vast  and  ever-growing  property 
of  this  country,  where  is  it  ?  Locked  up  in  a  few 
hands  ?  hoarded  in  a  few  strong  boxes  ?  It  is  dif- 
fused like  the  atmosphere,  and  almost  as  variable, 
changing  hands  with  the  seasons,  shifting  from 
rich  to  poor,  not  by  the  violence  but  by  the  indus- 
try and  skill  of  the  latter  class.  The  wealth  of 
the  rich  is  as  a  drop  in  the  ocean  ;  and  it  is  a  well 
known  fact,  that  those  men  among  us,  who  are 
noted  for  their  opulence,  exert  hardly  any  politi- 
cal power  on  the  community.  That  the  rich  do 
their  whole  duty  ;  that  they  adopt,  as  they  should, 
the  great  object  of  the  social  state,  which  is  the 
elevation  of  the  people  in  intelligence,  character, 
and  condition,  cannot  be  pretended  ;  but  that 
they  feel  for  the  physical  sufferings  of  their  breth- 
ren, that  they  stretch  out  liberal  hands  for  the 


55 

succor  of  the  poor  and  for  the  support  of  useful 
public  institutions,  cannot  be  denied.  Among 
them  are  admirable  specimens  of  humanity.  There 
is  no  warrant  for  holding  them  up  to  suspicion  as 
the  people's  foes. 

Nor  do  I  regard  as  less  calumnious  the  outcry 
against  the  working  classes,  as  if  they  were  aiming 
at  the  subversion  of  property.  When  we  think 
of  the  general  condition  and  character  of  this  part 
of  our  population,  when  we  recollect,  that  they 
were  born  and  have  lived  amidst  schools  and 
churches,  that  they  have  been  brought  up  to 
profitable  industry,  that  they  enjoy  many  of  the 
accommodations  of  life,  that  most  of  them  hold  a 
measure  of  property  and  are  hoping  for  more,  that 
they  possess  unprecedented  means  of  bettering 
their  lot,  that  they  are  bound  to  comfortable  homes 
by  strong  domestic  affections,  that  they  are  able 
to  give  their  children  an  education  which  places 
within  their  reach  the  prizes  of  the  social  state, 
that  they  are  trained  to  the  habits,  and  familiar- 
ized to  the  advantages  of  a  high  civilization ; 
when  we  recollect  these  things,  can  we  imagine 
that  they  are  so  insanely  blind  to  their  interests, 
so  deaf  to  the  calls  of  justice  and  religion,  so 
profligately  thoughtless  of  the  peace  and  safety  of 
their  families,  as  to  be  prepared  to  make  a  wreck 
of  social  order,  for  the  sake  of  dividing  among 
themselves  the  spoils  of  the  rich,  which  would  not 
support  the  community  for  a  month.  Undoubtedly 


56 

there  is  insecurity  in  all  stages  of  society,  and  so 
there  must  be,  until  communities  shall  be  regen- 
erated by  a  higher  culture,  reaching  and  quick- 
ening all  classes  of  the  people ;  but  there  is  not, 
I  believe,  a  spot  on  earth,  where  property  is  safer 
than  here,  because,  no  where  else  is  it  so  equally 
and  righteously  diffused.  In  aristocracies,  where 
wealth  exists  in  enormous  masses,  which  have  been 
entailed  for  ages  by  a  partial  legislation  on  a  favor- 
ed few,  and  where  the  multitude,  after  the  sleep  of 
ages,  are  waking  up  to  intelligence,  to  self-respect, 
and  to  a  knowledge  of  their  rights,  property  is 
exposed  to  shocks  which  are  not  to  be  dreaded 
among  ourselves.  Here  indeed  as  elsewhere, 
among  the  less  prosperous  members  of  the  com- 
munity, there  are  disappointed,  desperate  men, 
ripe  for  tumult  and  civil  strife  ;  but  it  is  also 
true,  that  the  most  striking  and  honorable  dis- 
tinction of  this  country  is  to  be  found  in  the 
intelligence,  character  and  condition  of  the  great 
working  class.  To  me  it  seems,  that  the  great 
danger  to  property  here  is  not  from  the  laborer, 
but  from  those  who  are  making  haste  to  be  rich. 
For  example,  in  this  commonwealth,  no  act  has 
been  thought  by  the  alarmists  or  the  conservatives 
so  subversive  of  the  rights  of  property,  as  a  recent 
law,  authorizing  a  company  to  construct  a  free 
bridge,  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  another, 
which  had  been  chartered  by  a  former  legislature, 
and  which  had  been  erected  in  the  expectation  of 


57 

an  exclusive  right.  And  with  whom  did  this 
alleged  assault  on  property  originate  ?  With  lev- 
ellers ?  with  needy  laborers?  with  men  bent  on 
the  prostration  of  the  rich  ?  No  ;  but  with  men 
of  business,  who  were  anxious  to  push  a  more 
lucrative  trade.  Again,  what  occurrence  among 
us  has  been  so  suited  to  destroy  confidence,  and  to 
stir  up  the  people  against  the  monied  class,  as  the 
late  criminal  mismanagement  of  some  of  our 
banking  institutions.  And  whence  came  this  ? 
from  the  rich  or  the  poor  ?  From  the  agrarian, 
or  the  man  of  business  ?  Who,  let  me  ask,  carry 
on  the  work  of  spoliation  most  extensively  in  soci- 
ety ?  Is  not  more  property  wrested  from  its  own  - 
ers  by  rash  or  dishonest  failures,  than  by  professed 
highwaymen  and  thieves  ?  Have  not  a  few  unprinci- 
pled speculators  sometimes  inflicted  wider  wrongs 
and  sufferings,  than  all  the  tenants  of  a  state 
prison  ?  Thus  property  is  in  more  danger  from 
those  who  are  aspiring  after  wealth,  than  from 
those  who  live  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow.  I  do 
not  believe,  however,  that  the  institution  is  in 
serious  danger  from  either.  All  the  advances  of 
society  in  industry,  useful  arts,  commerce,  knowl- 
edge, jurisprudence,  fraternal  union,  and  practical 
Christianity,  are  so  many  hedges  round  honestly 
acquired  wealth,  so  many  barriers  against  revolu- 
tionary violence  and  rapacity.  Let  us  not  torture 
ourselves  with  idle  alarms,  and  still  more  let  us 
not  inflame  ourselves  against  one  another  by  mu- 


58 

tual  calumnies.  Let  not  class  array  itself  against 
class,  where  all  have  a  common  interest.  One 
way  of  provoking  men  to  crime  is  to  suspect  them 
of  criminal  designs.  We  (L  not  secure  our  prop- 
erty against  the  poor,  by  accusing  them  of  schemes 
of  universal  robbery  ;  nor  render  the  rich  better 
friends  of  the  community,  by  fixing  on  them  the 
brand  of  hostility  to  the  people.  Of  all  parties, 
those  founded  on  different  social  conditions  are 
the  most  pernicious  ;  and  in  no  country  on  earth 
are  they  so  groundless  as  in  our  own. 

Among  the  best  people,  especially  among  the 
more  religious,  there  are  some,  who,  through  dis- 
gust with  the  violence  and  frauds  of  parties,  with- 
draw themselves  from  all  political  action.  Such,  I 
conceive,  do  wrong.  God  has  placed  them  in  the 
relations,  and  imposed  on  them  the  duties  of  citi- 
zens ;  and  they  are  no  more  authorized  to  shrink 
from  these  duties  than  from  those  of  sons,  husbands, 
or  fathers.  They  owe  a  great  debt  to  their  coun- 
try, and  must  discharge  it  by  giving  support  to  what 
they  deem  the  best  men  and  the  best  measures. 
Nor  let  them  say,  that  they  can  do  nothing.  Ev- 
ery good  man,  if  faithful  to  his  convictions,  bene- 
fits his  country.  All  parties  are  kept  in  check  by 
the  spirit  of  the  better  portion  of  people,  whom 
they  contain.  Leaders  are  always  compelled  to 
ask  what  their  party  will  bear,  and  to  modify  their 
measures,  so  as  not  to  shock  the  men  of  principle 
within  their  ranks.  A  good  man,  not  tamely  sub- 


59 

servient  to  the  body  with  which  he  acts,  but  judg- 
ing it  impartially,  criticising  it  freely,  bearing  tes- 
timony against  its  evils,  and  withholding  his  sup- 
port from  wrong,  does  good  to  those  around  him, 
and  is  cultivating  generously  his  own  mind. 

I  respectfully  counsel  those,  whom  I  address,  to 
take  part  in  the  politics  of  their  country.  These 
are  the  true  discipline  of  a  people,  and  do  much 
for  their  education.  I  counsel  you  to  labor  for  a 
clear  understanding  of  the  subjects  which  agitate 
the  community,  to  make  them  your  study,  instead 
of  wasting  your  leisure  in  vague,  passionate  talk 
about  them.  The  time  thrown  away  by  the  mass 
of  the  people  on  the  rumors  of  the  day,  might,  if 
better  spent,  give  them  a  good  acquaintance  with 
the  constitution,  laws,  history  and  interests  of  their 
country,  and  thus  establish  them  in  those  great 
principles  by  which  particular  measures  are  to  be 
determined.  In  proportion  as  the  people  thus  im- 
prove themselves,  they  will  cease  to  be  the  tools  of 
designing  politicians.  Their  intelligence,  not  their 
passions  and  jealousies,  will  be  addressed  by  those 
who  seek  their  votes.  They  will  exert,  not  a  nomi- 
nal, but  a  real  influence  on  the  government  and 
the  destinies  of  the  country,  and  at  the  same  time 
will  forward  their  own  growth  in  truth  and  virtue. 

I  ought  not  to  quit  this  subject  of  politics,  con- 
sidered as  a  means  of  self-culture,  without  speak- 
ing of  newspapers  ;  because  these  form  the  chief 
reading  of  the  bulk  of  the  people.  They  are  the 


60 

literature  of  multitudes.  Unhappily  their  impor- 
tance is  not  understood  ;  their  bearing  on  the  in- 
tellectual and  moral  cultivation  of  the  community, 
little  thought  of.  A  newspaper  ought  to  be  con- 
ducted by  one  of  our  most  gifted  men,  and  its 
income  should  be  such  as  to  enable  him  to  secure 
the  contributions  of  men  as  gifted  as  himself.  But 
we  must  take  newspapers  as  they  are  ;  and  a  man, 
anxious  for  self-culture,  may  turn  them  to  account, 
if  he  will  select  the  best  within  his  reach.  He 
should  exclude  from  his  house  such  as  are  venom- 
ous or  scurrilous,  as  he  would  a  pestilence.  He 
should  be  swayed  in  his  choice,  not  merely  by  the 
ability  with  which  a  paper  is  conducted,  but  still 
more  by  its  spirit,  by  its  justice,  fairness  and 
steady  adherence  to  great  principles.  Especially, 
if  he  would  know  the  truth,  let  him  hear  both 
sides.  Let  him  read  the  defence  as  well  as  the 
attack.  Let  him  not  give  his  ear  to  one  party  ex- 
clusively. We  condemn  ourselves,  when  we  listen 
to  reproaches  thrown  on  an  individual  and  turn 
away  from  his  exculpation  ;  and  is  it  just  to  read 
continual,  unsparing  invective  against  large  masses 
of  men,  and  refuse  them  the  opportunity  of  justi- 
fying themselves  ? 

A  new  class  of  daily  papers  has  sprung  up  in  our 
country,  sometimes  called  cent  papers,  and  designed 
for  circulation  among  those  who  cannot  afford  cost- 
lier publications.  My  interest  in  the  working  class 
induced  me  sometime  ago  to  take  one  of  these, 


61 

and  I  was  gratified  to  find  it  not  wanting  in  useful 
matter.  Two  things  however  gave  me  pain.  The 
advertising  columns  were  devoted  very  much  to 
patent  medicines  ;  and  when  I  considered  that  a 
laboring  man's  whole  fortune  is  his  health,  I  could 
not  but  lament,  that  so  much  was  done  to  seduce  him 
to  the  use  of  articles,  more  fitted,  I  fear,  to  under- 
mine than  to  restore  his  constitution.  I  was  also 
shocked  by  accounts  of  trials  in  the  police  court. 
These  were  written  in  a  style  adapted  to  the  most 
uncultivated  minds,  and  intended  to  turn  into 
matters  of  sport  the  most  painful  and  humiliating 
events  of  life.  Were  the  newspapers  of  the  rich 
to  attempt  to  extract  amusement  from  the  vices 
and  miseries  of  the  poor,  a  cry  would  be  raised 
against  them,  and  very  justly.  But  is  it  not 
something  worse,  that  the  poorer  classes  them- 
selves should  seek  occasions  of  laughter  and  mer- 
riment in  the  degradation,  the  crimes,  the  woes, 
the  punishments  of  their  brethren,  of  those  who 
are  doomed  to  bear  like  themselves  the  heaviest 
burdens  of  life,  and  who  have  sunk  under  the 
temptations  of  poverty  ?  Better  go  to  the  hospi- 
tal, and  laugh  over  the  wounds  and  writhings  of 
the  sick  or  the  ravings  of  the  insane,  than  amuse 
ourselves  with  brutal  excesses  and  infernal  pas- 
sions, which  not  only  expose  the  criminal  to  the 
crushing  penalties  of  human  laws,  but  incur  the 
displeasure  of  Heaven,  and,  if  not  repented  of, 
will  be  followed  by  the  fearful  retribution  of  the 
life  to  come. 


62 

One  important  topic  remains.  That  great 
means  of  self-improvement,  Christianity,  is  yet 
untouched,  and  its  greatness  forbids  me  now  to 
approach  it.  I  will  only  say,  that  if  you  study 
Christianity  in  its  original  records  and  not  in  hu- 
man creeds  ;  if  you  consider  its  clear  revelations 
of  God,  its  life-giving  promises  of  pardon  and 
spiritual  strength,  its  correspondence  to  man's 
reason,  conscience  and  best  affections,  and  its 
adaptation  to  his  wants,  sorrows,  anxieties  and 
fears  ;  if  you  consider  the  strength  of  its  proofs, 
the  purity  of  its  precepts,  the  divine  greatness  of 
the  character  of  its  author,  and  the  immortality 
which  it  opens  before  us,  you  will  feel  yourselves 
bound  to  welcome  it  joyfully,  gratefully,  as  afford- 
ing aids  and  incitements  to  self-culture,  which 
would  vainly  be  sought  in  all  other  means. 

I  have  thus  presented  a  few  of  the  means  of 
self-culture.  The  topics,  now  discussed,  will  I 
hope  suggest  others  to  those  who  have  honored 
me  with  their  attention,  and  create  an  interest 
which  will  extend  beyond  the  present  hour.  I 
owe  it  however  to  truth  to  make  one  remark.  I 
wish  to  raise  no  unreasonable  hopes.  I  must  say 
then,  that  the  means,  now  recommended  to  you, 
though  they  will  richly  reward  every  man  of  every 
age  who  will  faithfully  use  them,  will  yet  not  pro- 
duce their  full  and  happiest  effect,  except  in  cases 
where  early  education  has  prepared  the  mind  for 


63 

future  improvement.  They,  whose  childhood  has 
been  neglected,  though  they  may  make  progress 
in  future  life,  can  hardly  repair  the  loss  of  their 
first  years  ;  and  I  say  this,  that  we  may  all  be 
excited  to  save  our  children  from  this  loss,  that 
we  may  prepare  them,  to  the  extent  of  our  power, 
for  an  effectual  use  of  all  the  means  of  self-culture, 
which  adult  age  may  bring  with  it.  With  these 
views,  I  ask  you  to  look  with  favor  on  the  recent 
exertions  of  our  legislature  and  of  private  citi- 
zens, in  behalf  of  our  public  schools,  the  chief 
hope  of  our  country.  The  legislature  has  of  late 
appointed  a  board  of  education,  with  a  secretary, 
who  is  to  devote  his  whole  time  to  the  improve- 
ment of  public  schools.  An  individual  more  fitted 
to  this  responsible  office,  than  the  gentleman  who 
now  fills  it,*  cannot,  I  believe,  be  found  in  our  com- 
munity ;  and  if  his  labors  shall  be  crowned  with 
success,  he  will  earn  a  title  to  the  gratitude  of  the 
good  people  of  this  State,  unsurpassed  by  that  of 
any  other  living  citizen.  Let  me  also  recall  to  your 
minds  a  munificent  individual,!  who,  by  a  generous 
donation,  has  encouraged  the  legislature  to  resolve 
on  the  establishment  of  one  or  more  institutions 
called  Normal  Schools,  the  object  of  which  is,  to 
prepare  accomplished  teachers  of  youth,  a  work, 
on  which  the  progress  of  education  depends  more 
than  on  any  other  measure.  The  efficient  friends 
of  education  are  the  true  benefactors  of  their 

*  Horace  Mann,  Esq.  t  Edmund  Dwight,  Esq. 


64 


country,  and  their  names  deserve  to  be  handed 
down  to  that  posterity,  for  whose  highest  wants 
they  are  generously  providing. 

There  is  another  mode  of  advancing  education 
in  our  whole  country,  to  which  I  ask  your  particu- 
lar attention.  You  are  aware  of  the  vast  extent 
and  value  of  the  public  lands  of  the  Union.  By 
annual  sales  of  these,  large  amounts  of  money  are 
brought  into  the  national  treasury,  which  are  ap- 
plied to  the  current  expenses  of  the  Government. 
For  this  application  there  is  no  need.  In  truth, 
the  country  has  received  detriment  from  the  ex- 
cess of  its  revenues.  Now,  I  ask,  why  shall  not 
the  public  lands  be  consecrated,  (in  whole  or  in 
part,  as  the  case  may  require,)  to  the  education 
of  the  people  ?  This  measure  would  secure  at 
once  what  the  country  most  needs,  that  is,  able, 
accomplished,  quickening  teachers  of  the  whole 
rising  generation.  The  present  poor  remune- 
ration of  instructers  is  a  dark  omen,  and  the  only 
real  obstacle  which  the  cause  of  education  has  to 
contend  with.  We  need  for  our  schools  gifted 
men  and  women,  worthy,  by  their  intelligence 
and  their  moral  power,  to  be  entrusted  with  a 
nation's  youth  ;  and  to  gain  these  we  must  pay 
them  liberally,  as  well  as  afford  other  proofs  of  the 
consideration  in  which  we  hold  them.  In  the 
present  state  of  the  country,  when  so  many  paths 
of  wealth  and  promotion  are  opened,  superior  men 
cannot  be  won  to  an  office  so  responsible  and  la- 


65 

borious  as  that  of  teaching,  without  stronger  in- 
ducements than  are  now  offered,  except  in  some 
of  our  large  cities.  The  office  of  instructer  ought 
to  rank  and  be  recompensed  as  one  of  the  most 
honorable  in  society  ;  and  I  see  not  how  this  is 
to  be  done,  at  least  in  our  day,  without  appro- 
priating to  it  the  public  domain.  This  is  the  peo- 
ple's property,  and  the  only  part  of  their  property 
which  is  likely  to  be  soon  devoted  to  the  support 
of  a  high  order  of  institutions  for  public  educa- 
tion. This  object,  interesting  to  all  classes  of 
society,  has  peculiar  claims  on  those  whose  means 
of  improvement  are  restricted  by  narrow  circum- 
stances. The  mass  of  the  people  should  devote 
themselves  to  it  as  one  man,  should  toil  for  it  with 
one  soul.  Mechanics,  Farmers,  Laborers  !  Let 
the  country  echo  with  your  united  cry,  "  The 
Public  Lands  for  Education/'  Send  to  the  public 
councils  men  who  will  plead  this  cause  with 
power.  No  party  triumphs,  no  trades-unions,  no 
associations,  can  so  contribute  to  elevate  you  as 
the  measure  now  proposed.  Nothing  but  a  higher 
education  can  raise  you  in  influence  and  true  dig- 
nity. The  resources  of  the  public  domain,  wisely 
applied  for  successive  generations  to  the  culture  of 
society  and  of  the  individual,  would  create  a  new 
people,  would  awaken  through  this  community  in- 
tellectual and  moral  energies,  such  as  the  records 
of  no  country  display,  and  as  would  command  the 
respect  and  emulation  of  the  civilized  world.  In 
9 


66 

this  grand  object,  the  working  men  of  all  parties, 
and  in  all  divisions  of  the  land,  should  join  with 
an  enthusiasm  not  to  be  withstood.  They  should 
separate  it  from  all  narrow  and  local  strifes.  They 
should  not  suffer  it  to  be  mixed  up  with  the 
schemes  of  politicians.  In  it,  they  and  their  chil- 
dren have  an  infinite  stake.  May  they  be  true  to 
themselves,  to  posterity,  to  their  country,  to  free- 
dom, to  the  cause  of  mankind. 

III.  I  am  aware  that  the  whole  doctrine  of  this 
discourse  will  meet  opposition.  There  are  not  a 
few  who  will  say  to  me,  "  What  you  tell  us  sounds 
well;  but  it  is  impracticable.  Men,  who  dream  in 
their  closets,  spin  beautiful  theories  ;  but  actual 
life  scatters  them,  as  the  wind  snaps  the  cobweb. 
You  would  have  all  men  to  be  cultivated  ;  but  ne- 
cessity wills  that  most  men  shall  work ;  and  which 
of  the  two  is  likely  to  prevail.  A  weak  sentimen- 
tality may  shrink  from  the  truth  ;  still  it  is  true, 
that  most  men  were  made,  not  for  self-culture,  but 
for  toil." 

I  have  put  the  objection  into  strong  language, 
that  we  may  all  look  it  fairly  in  the  face.  For 
one  I  deny  its  validity.  Reason  as  well  as  senti- 
ment rises  up  against -it.  The  presumption  is  cer- 
tainly very  strong,  that  the  All-wise  Father,  who 
has  given  to  every  human  being,  reason  and  con- 
science and  affection,  intended  that  these  should 
be  unfolded  ;  and  it  is  hard  to  believe,  that  He, 


67 

who,  by  conferring  this  nature  on  all  men,  has 
made  all  his  children,  has  destined  the  great  ma- 
jority to  wear  out  a  life  of  drudgery  and  unim- 
proving  toil,  for  the  benefit  of  a  few.  God  cannot 
have  made  spiritual  beings  to  be  dwarfed.  In  the 
body  we  see  no  organs  created  to  shrivel  by  dis- 
use ;  much  less  are  the  powers  of  the  soul  given  to 
be  locked  up  in  perpetual  lethargy. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  replied,  that  the  purpose  of 
the  Creator  is  to  be  gathered,  not  from  theory,  but 
from  facts  ;  and  that  it  is  a  plain  fact,  that  the 
order  and  prosperity  of  society,  which  God  must 
be  supposed  to  intend,  require  from  the  multitude 
the  action  of  their  hands  and  not  the  improvement 
of  their  minds.  I  reply,  that  a  social  order,  de- 
manding the  sacrifice  of  the  mind,  is  very  suspi- 
cious, that  it  cannot  indeed  be  sanctioned  by  the 
Creator.  Were  I,  on  visiting  a  strange  country, 
to  see  the  vast  majority  of  the  people  maimed, 
crippled,  and  bereft  of  sight,  and  were  I  told  that 
social  order  required  this  mutilation,  I  should  say, 
Perish  this  order.  Who  would  not  think  his  un- 
derstanding as  well  as  best  feelings  insulted,  by 
hearing  this  spoken  of  as  the  intention  of  God. 
Nor  ought  we  to  look  with  less  aversion  on  a 
social  system,  which  can  only  be  upheld  by  crip- 
pling and  blinding  the  Minds  of  the  people. 

But  to  come  nearer  to  the  point.  Are  labor 
and  self-culture  irreconcileable  to  each  other.  In 
the  first  place,  we  have  seen  that  a  man,  in  the 


68 

midst  of  labor,  may  and  ought  to  give  himself  to 
the  most  important  improvements,  that  he  may 
cultivate  his  sense  of  justice,  his  benevolence,  and 
the  desire  of  perfection.  Toil  is  the  school  for 
these  high  principles  ;  and  we  have  here  a  strong 
presumption,  that,  in  other  respects,  it  does  not 
necessarily  blight  the  soul.  Next  we  have  seen, 
that  the  most  fruitful  sources  of  truth  and  wis- 
dom are  not  books,  precious  as  they  are,  but 
experience  and  observation ;  and  these  belong 
to  all  conditions.  It  is  another  important  con- 
sideration, that  almost  all  labor  demands  intel- 
lectual activity,  and  is  best  carried  on  by  those 
who  invigorate  their  minds ;  so  that  the  two  inter- 
ests, toil  and  self-culture,  are  friends  to  each 
other.  It  is  Mind,  after  all,  which  does  the  work 
of  the  world,  so  that  the  more  there  is  of  mind, 
the  more  work  will  be  accomplished.  A  man,  in 
proportion  as  he  is  intelligent,  makes  a  given  force 
accomplish  a  greater  task,  makes  skill  take  the 
place  of  muscles,  and,  with  less  labor,  gives  a 
better  product.  Make  men  intelligent  and  they 
become  inventive.  They  find  shorter  processes. 
Their  knowledge  of  nature  helps  them  to  turn  its 
laws  to  account,  to  understand  the  substances  on 
which  they  work,  and  to  seize  on  useful  hints, 
which  experience  continually  furnishes.  It  is 
among  workmen,  that  some  of  the  most  useful  ma- 
chines have  been  contrived.  Spread  education, 
and,  as  the  history  of  this  country  shows,  there 


69 

will  be  no  bounds  to  useful  inventions.  You  think, 
that  a  man  without  culture  will  do  all  the  better 
what  you  call  the  drudgery  of  life.  Go  then  to 
the  Southern  plantation.  There  the  slave  is 
brought  up  to  be  a  mere  drudge.  He  is  robbed  of 
the  rights  of  a  man,  his  whole  spiritual  nature 
is  starved,  that  he  may  work  and  do  nothing  but 
work  :  and  in  that  slovenly  agriculture,  in  that 
worn  out  soil,  in  the  rude  state  of  the  mechanic 
arts,  you  may  find  a  comment  on  your  doctrine, 
that  by  degrading  men  you  make  them  more  pro- 
ductive laborers. 

But  it  is  said,  that  any  considerable  education 
lifts  men  above  their  work,  makes  them  look  with 
disgust  on  their  trades  as  mean  and  low,  makes 
drudgery  intolerable.  I  reply,  that  a  man  becomes 
interested  in  labor  Just  in  proportion  as  the  mind 
works  with  the  hands.  An  enlightened  farmer, 
who  understands  agricultural  chemistry,  the  laws 
of  vegetation,  the  structure  of  plants,  the  proper- 
ties of  manures,  the  influences  of  climate,  who 
looks  intelligently  on  his  work  and  brings  his 
knowledge  to  bear  on  exigences,  is  a  much  more 
cheerful  as  well  as  more  dignified  laborer,  than 
the  peasant,  whose  mind  is  akin  to  the  clod  on 
which  he  treads,  and  whose  whole  life  is  the  same 
dull,  unthinking,  unimproving  toil.  But  this  is 
not  all.  Why  is  it,  I  ask,  that  we  call  manual 
labor  low,  that  we  associate  with  it  the  idea  of 
meanness,  and  think  that  an  intelligent  people 


70 

must  scorn  it  ?  The  great  reason  is,  that,  in  most 
countries,  so  few  intelligent  people  have  been 
engaged  in  it.  Once  let  cultivated  men  plough 
and  dig  and  follow  the  commonest  labors,  and 
ploughing,  digging  and  trades  will  cease  to  be 
mean.  It  is  the  man  who  determines  the  dignity 
of  the  occupation,  not  the  occupation  which  meas- 
ures the  dignity  of  the  man.  Physicians  and 
surgeons  perform  operations  less  cleanly  than  fall 
to  the  lot  of  most  mechanics.  I  have  seen  a  dis- 
tinguished chemist  covered  with  dust  like  a 
laborer.  Still  these  men  were  not  degraded. 
Their  intelligence  gave  dignity  to  their  work,  and 
so  our  laborers,  once  educated,  will  give  dignity 
to  their  toils. — Let  me  add,  that  I  see  little  differ- 
ence in  point  of  dignity,  between  the  various 
vocations  of  men.  When  I  see  a  clerk,  spending 
his  days  in  adding  figures  perhaps  merely  copy- 
ing, or  a  teller  of  a  bank  counting  money,  or  a 
merchant  selling  shoes  and  hides,  I  cannot  see  in 
these  occupations  greater  respectableness  than  in 
making  leather,  shoes,  or  furniture.  I  do  not  see 
in  them  greater  intellectual  activity  than  in  sev- 
eral trades.  A  man  in  the  fields  seems  to  have 
more  chances  of  improvement  in  his  work,  than  a 
man  behind  the  counter,  or  a  man  driving  the 
quill.  It  is  the  sign  of  a  narrow  mind,  to  imag- 
ine, as  many  seem  to  do,  that  there  is  a  repug- 
nance between  the  plain,  coarse  exterior  of  a 
laborer  and  mental  culture,  especially  the  more 


71 

refining  culture.  The  laborer,  under  his  dust  and 
sweat,  carries  the  grand  elements  of  humanity, 
and  he  may  put  forth  its  highest  powers.  I  doubt 
not,  there  is  as  genuine  enthusiasm  in  the  contem- 
plation of  nature  and  in  the  perusal  of  works  of 
genius,  under  a  homespun  garb  as  under  finery. 
We  have  heard  of  a  distinguished  author,  who 
never  wrote  so  well,  as  when  he  was  full  dressed 
for  company.  But  profound  thought  and  poetical 
inspiration  have  most  generally  visited  men,  when, 
from  narrow  circumstances  or  negligent  habits, 
the  rent  coat  and  shaggy  face  have  made  them 
quite  unfit  for  polished  saloons.  A  man  may  see 
truth,  and  may  be  thrilled  with  beauty,  in  one  cos- 
tume or  dwelling  as  well  as  another ;  and  he 
should  respect  himself  the  more  for  the  hardships, 
under  which  his  intellectual  force  has  been  devel- 
oped. 

But  it  will  be  asked,  how  can  the  laboring 
classes  find  time  for  self-culture.  I  answer,  as  I 
have  already  intimated,  that  an  earnest  purpose 
finds  time  or  makes  time.  It  seizes  on  spare  mo- 
ments, and  turns  larger  fragments  of  leisure  to 
golden  account.  A  man,  who  follows  his  calling 
with  industry  and  spirit,  and  uses  his  earnings 
economically,  wall  always  have  some  portion  of 
the  day  at  command  ;  and  it  is  astonishing,  how 
fruitful  of  improvement  a  short  season  becomes, 
when  eagerly  seized  and  faithfully  used.  It  has 
often  been  observed,  that  they,  who  have  most 


72 

time  at  their  disposal,  profit  by  it  least.  A  single 
hour  in  the  day,  steadily  given  to  the  study  of  an 
interesting  subject,  brings  unexpected  accumula- 
tions of  knowledge.  The  improvement  made  by 
well  disposed  pupils,  in  many  of  our  country 
schools,  which  are  open  but  three  months  in  the 
year,  and  in  our  Sunday  schools,  which  are  kept 
but  one  or  two  hours  in  the  week,  show  what  can 
be  brought  to  pass  by  slender  means.  The  affec- 
tions, it  is  said,  sometimes  crowd  years  into  mo- 
ments, and  the  intellect  has  something  of  the 
same  power.  Volumes  have  not  only  been  read, 
but  written,  in  flying  journeys.  I  have  known  a 
man  of  vigorous  intellect,  who  had  enjoyed  few 
advantages  of  early  education,  and  whose  mind 
was  almost  engrossed  by  the  details  of  an  exten- 
sive business,  but  who  composed  a  book  of  much 
original  thought,  in  steamboats  and  on  horseback, 
while  visiting  distant  customers.  The  succession 
of  the  seasons  gives  to  many  of  the  working  class 
opportunities  for  intellectual  improvement.  The 
winter  brings  leisure  to  the  husbandman,  and  win- 
ter evenings  to  many  laborers  in  the  city.  Above 
all,  in  Christian  countries,  the  seventh  day  is 
released  from  toil.  The  seventh  part  of  the  year, 
no  small  portion  of  existence,  may  be  given  by 
almost  every  one  to  intellectual  and  moral  culture. 
Why  is  it  that  Sunday  is  not  made  a  more  effectual 
means  of  improvement  ?  Undoubtedly  the  sev- 
enth day  is  to  have  a  religious  character ;  but 


73 

religion  connects  itself  with  all  the  great  subjects 
of  human  thought,  and  leads  to  and  aids  the  study 
of  all.  God  is  in  nature.  God  is  in  history.  In- 
struction in  the  works  of  the  Creator,  so  as  to 
reveal  his  perfection  in  their  harmony,  benefi- 
cence and  grandeur  ;  instruction  in  the  histories 
of  the  church  and  the  world,  so  as  to  show  in  all 
events  his  moral  government,  and  to  bring  out  the 
great  moral  lessons  in  which  human  life  abounds  ; 
instruction  in  the  lives  of  philanthropists,  of  saints, 
of  men  eminent  for  piety  and  virtue  ;  all  these 
branches  of  teaching  enter  into  religion,  and  are 
appropriate  to  Sunday  ;  and  through  these,  a  vast 
amount  of  knowledge  may  be  given  to  the  people. 
Sunday  ought  not  to  remain  the  dull  and  fruitless 
season,  that  it  now  is  to  multitudes.  It  may  be 
clothed  with  a  new  interest  and  a  new  sanctity. 
It  may  give  a  new  impulse  to  the  nation's  soul. — I 
have  thus  shown,  that  time  may  be  found  for  im- 
provement ;  and  the  fact  is,  that  among  our  most 
improved  people,  a  considerable  part  consists  of 
persons,  who  pass  the  greatest  portion  of  every  day 
at  the  desk,  in  the  counting  room,  or  in  some 
other  sphere,  chained  to  tasks  which  have  very 
little  tendency  to  expand  the  mind.  In  the  pro- 
gress of  society,  with  the  increase  of  machinery, 
and  with  other  aids  which  intelligence  and  philan- 
thropy will  multiply,  we  may  expect  that  more 
and  more  time  will  be  redeemed  from  manual 
labor,  for  intellectual  and  social  occupations. 
10 


74 

But  some  will  say,  "  Be  it  granted  that  the 
working  classes  may  find  some  leisure  ;  should 
they  not  be  allowed  to  spend  it  in  relaxation  ?  Is 
it  not  cruel,  to  summon  them  from  toils  of  the 
hand  to  toils  of  the  mind  ?  They  have  earned 
pleasure  by  the  day's  toil  and  ought  to  partake 
it/'  Yes,  let  them  have  pleasure.  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  dry  up  the  fountains,  to  blight  the 
spots  of  verdure,  where  they  refresh  themselves 
after  life's  labors.  But  I  maintain,  that  self-culture 
multiplies  and  increases  their  pleasures,  that  it 
creates  new  capacities  of  enjoyment,  that  it  saves 
their  leisure  from  being,  what  it  too  often  is,  dull 
and  wearisome,  that  it  saves  them  from  rushing  for 
excitement  to  indulgences  destructive  to  body  and 
soul.  It  is  one  of  the  great  benefits  of  self-im- 
provement, that  it  raises  a  people  above  the  grati- 
fications of  the  brute,  and  gives  them  pleasures 
worthy  of  men.  In  consequence  of  the  present 
intellectual  culture  of  our  country,  imperfect  as  it 
is,  a  vast  amount  of  enjoyment  is  communicated  to 
men,  women  and  children,  of  all  conditions,  by 
books,  an  enjoyment  unknown  to  ruder  times.  At 
this  moment,  a  number  of  gifted  writers  are  em- 
ployed in  multiplying  entertaining  works.  Walter 
Scott,  a  name  conspicuous  among  the  brightest  of 
his  day,  poured  out  his  inexhaustible  mind  in  fic- 
tions, at  once  so  sportive  and  thrilling,  that  they 
have  taken  their  place  among  the  delights  of  all 
civilized  nations.  How  many  millions  have  been 


75 

chained  to  his  pages!  How  many  melancholy 
spirits  has  he  steeped  in  forgetfulness  of  their 
cares  and  sorrows!  What  multitudes,  wearied  by 
their  day's  work,  have  owed  some  bright  evening 
hours  and  balmier  sleep  to  his  magical  creations  ! 
And  not  only  do  fictions  give  pleasure.  In  pro- 
portion as  the  mind  is  cultivated,  it  takes  delight 
in  history  and  biography,  in  descriptions  of  nature, 
in  travels,  in  poetry,  and  even  graver  works.  Is 
the  laborer  then  defrauded  of  pleasure  by  im- 
provement ?  There  is  another  class  of  gratifica- 
tions to  which  self-culture  introduces  the  mass  of 
the  people.  I  refer  to  lectures,  discussions,  meet- 
ings of  associations  for  benevolent  and  literary 
purposes,  and  to  other  like  methods  of  passing  the 
evening,  which  every  year  is  multiplying  among 
us.  A  popular  address  from  an  enlightened  man, 
who  has  the  tact  to  reach  the  minds  of  the  people, 
is  a  high  gratification,  as  well  as  a  source  of 
knowledge.  The  profound  silence  in  our  public 
halls,  where  these  lectures  are  delivered  to 
crowds,  shows  that  cultivation  is  no  foe  to  enjoy- 
ment.— I  have  a  strong  hope,  that  by  the  progress 
of  intelligence,  taste  and  morals  among  all  por- 
tions of  society,  a  class  of  public  amusements  will 
grow  up  among  us,  bearing  some  resemblance  to 
the  theatre,  but  purified  from  the  gross  evils  which 
degrade  our  present  stage,  and  which,  I  trust,  will 
seal  its  ruin.  Dramatic  performances  and  recita- 
tions are  means  of  bringing  the  mass  of  the  peo- 


76 


pie  into  a  quicker  sympathy  with  a  writer  of 
genius,  to  a  profounder  comprehension  of  his 
grand,  beautiful,  touching  conceptions,  than  can 
be  effected  by  the  reading  of  the  closet.  No 
commentary  throws  such  a  light  on  a  great  poem 
or  any  impassioned  work  of  literature,  as  the 
voice  of  a  reader  or  speaker,  who  brings  to  the 
task  a  deep  feeling  of  his  author  and  rich  and 
various  powers  of  expression.  A  crowd,  electri- 
fied by  a  sublime  thought,  or  softened  into  a  human- 
izing sorrow,  under  such  a  voice,  partake  a  pleas- 
ure at  once  exquisite  and  refined  ;  and  I  cannot 
but  believe,  that  this  and  other  amusements,  at 
which  the  delicacy  of  woman  and  the  purity  of 
the  Christian  can  take  no  offence,  are  to  grow  up 
under  a  higher  social  culture. — Let  me  only  add, 
that  in  proportion  as  culture  spreads  among  a 
people,  the  cheapest  and  commonest  of  all  pleas- 
ures, conversation,  increases  in  delight.  This, 
after  all,  is  the  great  amusement  of  life,  cheering 
us  round  our  hearths,  often  cheering  our  work, 
stirring  our  hearts  gently,  acting  on  us  like  the 
balmy  air  or  the  bright  light  of  heaven,  so  silent- 
ly and  continually,  that  we  hardly  think  of  its  in- 
fluence. This  source  of  happiness  is  too  often  lost 
to  men  of  all  classes  for  want  of  knowledge,  men- 
tal activity,  and  refinement  of  feeling  ;  and  do  we 
defraud  the  laborer  of  his  pleasure,  by  recommend- 
ing to  him  improvements  which  will  place  the  daily, 
hourly,  blessings  of  conversation  within  his  reach  ? 


77 

I  have  thus  considered  some  of  the  common  ob- 
jections which  start  up  when  the  culture  of  the 
mass  of  men  is  insisted  on,  as  the  great  end  of 
society.  For  myself,  these  objections  seem  wor- 
thy little  notice.  The  doctrine  is  too  shocking  to 
need  refutation,  that  the  great  majority  of  human 
beings,  endowed  as  they  are  with  rational  and  im- 
mortal powers,  are  placed  on  earth,  simply  to  toil 
for  their  own  animal  subsistence,  and  to  minister 
to  the  luxury  and  elevation  of  the  few.  It  is 
monstrous,  it  approaches  impiety,  to  suppose  that 
God  has  placed  insuperable  barriers  to  the  expan- 
sion of  the  free  illimitable  soul.  True,  there  are 
obstructions  in  the  way  of  improvement.  But  in 
this  country,  the  chief  obstructions  lie,  not  in  our 
lot,  but  in  ourselves,  not  in  outward  hardships, 
but  in  our  worldly  and  sensual  propensities  ;  and 
one  proof  of  this  is,  that  a  true  self-culture  is  as 
little  thought  of  on  exchange  as  in  the  workshop, 
as  little  among  the  prosperous  as  among  those  of 
narrower  conditions.  The  path  to  perfection  is 
difficult  to  men  in  every  lot  ;  there  is  no  royal 
road  for  rich  or  poor.  But  difficulties  are  meant 
to  rouse  not  discourage.  The  human  spirit  is  to 
grow  strong  by  conflict.  And  how  much  has  it 
already  overcome  !  Under  what  burdens  of  op- 
pression has  it  made  its  way  for  ages  !  What 
mountains  of  difficulty  has  it  cleared  !  And  with 
all  this  experience,  shall  we  say,  that  the  progress 
of  the  mass  of  men  is  to  be  despaired  of,  that  the 


78 

chains  of  bodily  necessity  are  too  strong  and  pon- 
derous to  be  broken  by  the  mind,  that  servile, 
unimproving  drudgery  is  the  unalterable  condition 
of  the  multitude  of  the  human  race  ? 

I  conclude  with  recalling  to  you  the  happiest 
feature  of  our  age,  and  that  is,  the  progress  of  the 
mass  of  the  people  in  intelligence,  self-respect, 
and  all  the  comforts  of  life.  What  a  contrast 
does  the  present  form  with  past  times !  Not  many 
ages  ago,  the  nation  was  the  property  of  one  man, 
and  all  its  interests  were  staked  in  perpetual 
games  of  war,  for  no  end  but  to  build  up  his  fami- 
ly, or  to  bring  new  territories  under  his  yoke. 
Society  was  divided  into  two  classes,  the  highborn 
and  the  vulgar,  separated  from  one  another  by  a 
great  gulph,  as  impassable  as  that  between  the 
saved  and  the  lost.  The  people  had  no  signifi- 
cance as  individuals,  but  formed  a  mass,  a  ma- 
chine, to  be  wielded  at  pleasure  by  their  lords. 
In  war,  which  was  the  great  sport  of  the  times, 
those  brave  knights,  of  whose  prowess  we  hear, 
cased  themselves  and  their  horses  in  armour,  so 
as  to  be  almost  invulnerable,  whilst  the  common 
people  on  foot  were  left,  without  protection,  to 
be  hewn  in  pieces  or  trampled  down  by  their  bet- 
ters. Who,  that  compares  the  condition  of  Europe 
a  few  ages  ago,  with  the  present  state  of  the 
world,  but  must  bless  God  for  the  change.  The 
grand  distinction  of  modern  times  is,  the  emerging 


79 

of  the  people  from  brutal  degradation,  the  gradual 
recognition  of  their  rights,  the  gradual  diffusion 
among  them  of  the  means  of  improvement  and 
happiness,  the  creation  of  a  new  power  in  the 
state,  the  power  of  the  people.  And  it  is  worthy 
remark,  that  this  revolution  is  due  in  a  great 
degree  to  religion,  which,  in  the  hands  of  the 
crafty  and  aspiring,  had  bowed  the  multitude  to 
the  dust,  but  which,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  began 
to  fulfil  its  mission  of  freedom.  It  was  religion, 
which,  by  teaching  men  their  near  relation  to 
God,  awakened  in  them  the  consciousness  of  their 
importance  as  individuals.  It  was  the  struggle  for 
religious  rights,  which  opened  men's  eyes  to  all 
their  rights.  It  was  resistance  to  religious  usur- 
pation, which  led  men  to  withstand  political  op- 
pression. It  was  religious  discussion,  which  roused 
the  minds  of  all  classes  to  free  and  vigorous 
thought.  It  was  religion,  which  armed  the 
martyr  and  patriot  in  England  against  arbitrary 
power,  which  braced  the  spirits  of  our  fathers 
against  the  perils  of  the  ocean  and  wilderness, 
and  sent  them  to  found  here  the  freest  and  most 
equal  state  on  earth. 

Let  us  thank  God  for  what  has  been  gained. 
But  let  us  not  think  every  thing  gained.  Let  the 
people  feel  that  they  have  only  started  in  the  race. 
How  much  remains  to  be  done  !  What  a  vast 
amount  of  ignorance,  intemperance,  coarseness, 
sensuality,  may  still  be  found  in  our  community  ! 


80 

What  a  vast  amount  of  mind  is  palsied  and  lost  ! 
When  we  think,  that  every  house  might  be  cheered 
by  intelligence,  disinterestedness  and  refinement, 
and  then  remember,  in  how  many  houses  the 
higher  powers  and  affections  of  human  nature  are 
buried  as  in  tombs,  what  a  darkness  gathers  over 
society.  And  how  few  of  us  are  moved  by  this 
moral  desolation?  How  few  understand,  that  to 
raise  the  depressed,  by  a  wise  culture,  to  the  dig- 
nity of  men,  is  the  highest  end  of  the  social  state? 
Shame  on  us,  that  the  worth  of  a  fellow  creature  is 
so  little  felt. 

I  would,  that  I  could  speak  with  an  awakening 
voice  to  the  people,  of  their  wants,  their  priv- 
ileges, their  responsibilities.  I  would  say  to  them, 
You  cannot,  without  guilt  and  disgrace,  stop  where 
you  are.  The  past  and  the  present  call  on  you  to 
advance.  Let  what  you  have  gained  be  an  im- 
pulse to  something  higher.  Your  nature  is  too 
great  to  be  crushed.  You  were  not  created  what 
you  are,  merely  to  toil,  eat,  drink  and  sleep,  like 
the  inferior  animals.  If  you  will,  you  can  rise. 
No  power  in  society,  no  hardship  in  your  condi- 
tion can  depress  you,  keep  you  down,  in  knowl- 
edge, power,  virtue,  influence,  but  by  your  own 
consent.  Do  not  be  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  flatter- 
ies which  you  hear,  as  if  your  participation  in  the 
national  sovereignty  made  you  equal  to  the  noblest 
of  your  race.  You  have  many  and  great  deficien- 
cies to  be  remedied ;  and  the  remedy  lies,  not  in 


81 

the  ballot  box,  not  in  the  exercise  of  your  political 
powers,  but  in  the  faithful  education  of  yourselves 
and  your  children.  These  truths  you  have  often 
heard  and  slept  over.  Awake  !  Resolve  earnest- 
ly on  Self-culture.  Make  yourselves  worthy  of 
your  free  institutions,  and  strengthen  and  per- 
petuate them  by  your  intelligence  and  your  virtues. 


11 


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